


You Lost Your Way Somewhere With Me

by QuirkyRobin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuirkyRobin/pseuds/QuirkyRobin
Summary: John Murphy ruined everything. But following a chance encounter, what if, after all he's done, Raven finds she still hasn't given up?
Relationships: John Murphy & Raven Reyes, John Murphy/Raven Reyes
Comments: 100
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

For the third time that month, Murphy found himself without a bed to sleep in or a roof over his head. As the thunder rolled and the heavens opened, he wondered how he always managed to fuck everything up. Except that was easy. He knew exactly how he did it: drinking, brawling and gambling were the usual culprits. The real question was why. 

He pondered this as he stared into the blackening clouds, mouth open to receive the sting of the fresh downpour. It was like tasting life itself: the biting assault bringing new sensation back into the numbness of his split lips and bruised cheeks, his eyes blinking shut with each piercing prick of the icy salvo. Murphy smiled, a coarse laugh gurgling in the back of his throat as the downpour rushed in. Maybe if he lay down in it long enough, he would drown before the morning.

And that was how she found him: curled in a puddle of what she could only imagine was a culmination of the previous night’s storm and the contents of his ale laden stomach. His face so deep in the mud that, when she rolled him over, she nearly threw him back in the dirt as he choked up a mouthful of wet earth.

“Get up.” The sharp demand was followed swiftly by a toe to the ribs. When he only groaned and sank back towards the dubious looking pillow of crap he’d slept in, she grabbed him by his grimy collar and gave him a rough shake. “Hey, asshole!” 

Murphy was vaguely aware of the resentful tirade but somehow the pounding in his own head seemed to drown it out. _Still here, then_. The bitter voice in the back of his brain scolded, as he subconsciously recoiled from the insistent grasp at his throat. Except he must have mumbled it aloud because the caustic rebuke was quickly followed by the stinging crack of a palm against his swollen jaw and he gagged unceremoniously at the coppery tang that told him his lip was bleeding again. The iron fingers twisted in his shirt and with a final flourish flung him viciously back into the dirt. Murphy retched as the collision knocked the wind from lungs and, as he finally wrenched his viscid eyes open, he clutched desperately for something to hold onto while the wretched, miserable world churned before him. 

“Don’t even _think_ about chucking on me.” 

If the venomous inflections weren’t enough, the unwelcome sound of laboured footfall squelching through the sodden ground told him everything he needed to know. Murphy closed his aching eyes and counted slowly to ten, inhaling cautiously with each odd number and exhaling shakily with the even. By the time the familiar boots had returned he felt confident enough to open his eyes again without the fear of redecorating the feet of his irate female assailant. 

Blinking away the fuzzy outline of the battered combat boots, the world gradually came back into focus. Murphy squinted in the daylight, his eyes splintering with the movement. He brought a tentative hand to his face, that last night had felt so numb but which now pulsated with pain and regret. 

“Yeh you look like shit, idiot.” He relished the temporary shadow that crossed his vision and when he heard her drop lazily to the floor beside him, not quite beyond his projectile range, he wondered just how pitiful he must look for her to be here. “Think fast.” 

Murphy registered the shift in her body too late and was caught off guard by the full canteen that socked him in the gut. He instinctively curled up around it with a grunt. “Shit, Raven.” He groaned. “Give a guy some warning.”

“Quit your bitching and drink up, you ungrateful asshole.” Raven watched him resentfully as he desperately guzzled down the cold water, despite his whinging. She wasn’t sure if it was his greed or his inability to purse his bust lips around the canteen but the amount of water that dribbled down his chin could surely be considered obscene. Raven scoffed as her eyes followed the rivulets that caught and jarred in the stubble of his gulping throat. “You’re such a cockroach.” 

Murphy didn’t even pause for breath, merely took the opportunity to narrow his eyes and steal an amused side glance at her. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost say she looked uncomfortable. She’d brought her brace encased knee up to her chest and was picking absently at some speck of dirt around the casing, not quite making a good enough show of being absorbed in the action. Murphy tilted his head back and drained the last of the canteen, giving it a cursory shake to make sure it was empty and squinting as he flicked a few stray droplets into his dry eyes. 

“Takes one to know one.” He drawled, tossing the empty canteen at her lap and trying to contain his smirk when she caught it without hesitation. _Yeh_ , he thought, _not quite as indifferent as you’d like me to believe_. He thought he caught her grimace at that. 

“On the contrary,” she huffed, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, “I’ve seen enough parasites like you: I know when to call a spade a spade.” She gave up on the imaginary imperfection on her brace and let it fall to the side. 

“How do you do it?” She asked after a pause. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. At any other time he might have considered himself quite slick but he knew the likelihood was that he just looked damaged and confused right now. His suspicions were confirmed in the withering glare she gave him as she continued. “Whatever you do, it’s always the same. You just keep getting up again. Really, I wanna know. Is it just out of spite? To prove a point? No matter what you get yourself into, you always come out unscathed. Or is it because there’s actually some tiny part of you, deep down inside, that isn’t so sure self destruction is the answer?”

Her voice was bitter and she knew she sounded petty and spiteful, but she didn’t care. She watched triumphantly as he scoffed at her and pointed contemptuously at the ugly patchwork of cuts and bruises adorning his face. “In case you hadn’t noticed-” He started but she cut him off with a derisive laugh.

“Please,” she snorted. “They didn’t even break your nose. Those wounds are as shallow as you are.”

A stubborn silence fell over the pair as they sat on the damp ground. Murphy would have been lying if he said he was surprised by the hostility that had descended. If anything, he was more confused by her presence than the fact that she had taken the opportunity to spit a few home truths at him. He couldn’t really blame her. 

Murphy took a moment to survey his surroundings, shifting uncomfortably in his soiled jeans. “Where the fuck am I anyway, Reyes?” He demanded.

“Just outside Arkadia. Surprised you don’t recognise it.” Raven mumbled, nodding vaguely towards a sorry-looking swingset. The once orange paint peeling as though trying to shed a myriad of unwanted memories. “Spent many a night knotting up those chains.”

Taking in the playground equipment, Murphy found it difficult to understand just how he had missed it. Raven was back to inspecting her brace, he noticed. He stared at the rusting chains and let his eyes wander over to the faded roundabout. The very-merry-go-round: that’s what she used to call it. He felt himself glaze over and tried to convince his short-circuiting brain that it was a lingering side effect of his monstrous hangover. Nothing whatsoever to do with the ghosts he could see swimming just beyond the surface of reality. If he looked long enough, he was sure he could still see her: dirty knees, faded red bomber, fine wisps of dark hair trailing out from her high pony to frame her oval face. 

_His ears are filled with her gleeful shrieks as the racing platform overtakes her and drags her filthy boots for a full rotation before she manages to swing a leg round the iron bar she clings to. He feels the bite of her nails in his arm as he clasps his numb fingers around her delicate wrist to wrench her into the middle of the spinning platform. And as they top and tail, the world quite literally revolves around them and the stars are all becoming one but, when he turns to face her, revelling in the comforting scent of Sovereign Blue and bottom shelf whiskey, it is nothing compared to the brilliance of her rare and beautiful smile as she laughs and laughs and laughs…_

Murphy was drawn blinking and breathless out of his mirage by the realisation that Raven had asked him a question. He turned to face her, dazed, and wondered when she had last laughed like that. Her mouth was set in hard lines and her brows were pinched in vexation at his lack of response. “How did you find me?” 

“Ok, so just ignoring me. Cool.” Murphy continued to stare at her impassively. She sighed. “Don’t get any ideas; there is no way in hell I was looking for you. I was on my way to the garage when I spotted some twat face-down in the park. I slowed down for a nose and figured I’d recognise that skinny ass anywhere.” She smirked, as though tickled by the memory. “I was going to leave you there but I felt sorry for the sad-sack that might eventually find you and your fucking attitude. That and the fact that it crossed my mind some poor, horrified single mom might call the police about the drunk bloke hanging out in the kids’ play area. Because as much as it might have amused me to imagine you being held in a cell and interrogated about your deviant intentions - and believe me, it did, like really did - I couldn’t live with myself if the reason you _actually_ went to prison was more pathetic than what you _actually_ did to me.”

She was still smirking in that morbid kind of way she had, like when she knew she had the moral high ground and was preparing to make a small snack out of whoever her unsuspecting victim might be. He thought that on some level she was probably trying to make a joke but the reality was that the accident was still a sore subject. He still felt guilty. And so he should: he was. 

“But seriously,” she pressed. “What did you do this time?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” He replied, oozing feigned nonchalance. “Got blind drunk, gambled away my imaginary possessions, couldn’t cough up.” Murphy lifted his eyes to find Raven unimpressed. He attempted to lighten the situation with a quirk of his split lips. “You should see the other guy, though.”

It had been a long time since Murphy had been able to read Raven. For a while they had been everything to one another but, after he’d ruined it all, Murphy hadn’t seen her for about three years. But to be fair to him, he hadn’t seen a lot of anything in those three years. He had mostly spent his time at the bottom of a bottle or staring at the ceiling of the drunk tank. In that time, though, she seemed to have flourished. Murphy thought it was entirely possible that they were both unrecognisable. But he would have to have had his eyes scooped out with hot spoons to not recognise the look of contempt and disappointment that she wore in that moment. 

“What do you want me to say, Reyes?” He spat out churlishly. “I never asked you to come rescue me.”

Raven stared at him for just a moment longer before hauling herself stiffly to her feet. Dusting down her damp ass, she limped her way towards the road. “Get in the car.” She called over her shoulder.

Murphy sat stoically in the mud. He turned to follow her uneven gait, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What?”

“This is a one-time offer, cockroach. Get in the car. Or don’t. See if I give a shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

Murphy was many things: obstinate, volatile, rash. But he was not stupid and Raven was nothing if not brutally honest. He knew without a doubt that if he did not have his ass firmly situated in the passenger seat of her beloved Jeep by the time she flicked the ignition, she would have zero qualms about leaving him here to fend for himself. Still, he had an image to uphold. He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of scurrying immediately after her as though she was some kind of saviour, even if she kind of was right now.

He counted Raven’s steps as she walked away from him towards the road. In the spirit of times gone by, he allowed himself to admire her athletic form, shamelessly drinking in the curve of her hips in her jeans. He knew he was safe; she wouldn’t check to see if he was following. She hadn’t even looked back: not once. She never did. He counted another six steps before deciding he better start making a move if he didn’t want to watch her drive off into the distance. 

Grumbling incoherently under his breath, Murphy did his best to make a scene. He huffed and puffed and groaned as he rolled to his feet; slapping the dirt noisily from his jeans, he made a point of patting his pockets and checking the mud for his non-existent possessions. He tucked his thumbs into his back pockets in a gesture that, he hoped, screamed ‘whatever’ and proceeded with a lazy swagger towards the car.

Raven tried to hide her smug grin as she slammed the driver’s door shut behind her. It might have been years since she last came to recover him from his poor choices but she knew the moment he snarked at her for coming to his rescue that Murphy wouldn’t turn her down. Not that she really wanted to take a trip down that particular memory lane, but she liked being right: sue her. 

She also kind of liked the fact he was still pretending to think about it, that her offering him a lift was just another annoyance even though he didn’t really have any other option. Murphy had never been intimidated by her. It had been part of his charm all those years ago. While she outperformed and emasculated her peers, he had never put up with her shit and pushed back with just as much force. The fact he was still pushing back now, even if only to protect what was left of his pride, made her feel like maybe he still had something left worth fighting for. 

Raven turned the key in the ignition just as Murphy clambered casually into the passenger seat. She didn’t bother to make any eye contact and decided to leave him to stew a bit longer. She knew that he wanted her to think he was doing her a favour and, to be honest, she couldn’t be arsed to prove him otherwise. He looked like shit: she’d let him have this one.

As she pulled out onto the main road back into Arkadia, Raven considered just how she was going to approach the inevitable conversation with Sinclair when she returned to the garage. It was true that she had spotted Murphy from the road, but what she neglected to tell him was that she had managed to drive all the way to Polis before she decided she should probably go back for him. Sinclair had known the moment she stepped through the shop door that something was off and she begrudgingly explained what she had seen. Even as she filled her on-call canteen at the staffroom sink, Raven had still been in two minds about whether to drive back for him, but one look at Sinclair’s face told her he knew exactly what she was going to do.

_“Just go,” he had said to her softly. She thought she caught a wave of concern wash over his tired eyes but they creased into a small smile as he continued, lightly squeezing her arm as he made his way back out into the front. “Why don’t you just take the day? You haven’t taken any time all year - you know I can’t carry it over again.”_

Raven chanced a furtive glance at Murphy. He remained uncharacteristically quiet, all things considered. She had expected a much more flamboyant effort to throw her off. His eyes were downcast, intent on watching his hands while he picked absently at the skin around his bitten nails. He looked more vulnerable than she remembered him. Small, somehow, despite his anger and his attitude. She thought back to a time when he had seemed so much larger than life, even on those dark days when everything had seemed too much and not enough all at the same time. _Where did you go?_ She wondered. _When did it all fall apart?_

Murphy knew he had to say something soon. He was about to slip off the edge of ‘proud but pissed’ and dive head first into the oblivion of ‘morosely depressed and destitute’. Another vicious tug at his nail produced a bloom of fresh red blood and he sucked the finger deftly into his mouth to stop the bleeding. He flicked the electric window down all the way as a distraction and rested his head back on the frame. The billowing air caused him to close his eyes momentarily while he drank in the fresh gusts as he breathed, the cold air that forced its way into his mouth and nose both invigorating and overwhelming. 

A cursory look at the dashboard told Murphy that it was still fairly early, not quite ten. He wouldn’t usually resurface until much closer to midday but it’s not like he had had much choice this time round. Murphy supposed he should be grateful. He was, really. But the thought of the awkward looks and strained conversations that would surely follow did not appeal to him in the slightest. He had stayed away for a reason. It occurred to him then that he had no idea what Raven’s intentions were. 

“Where are you taking me?” Murphy’s voice was nasal and testy even to his own ears. 

Raven didn’t miss a beat, her eyes glued to the road ahead. “Home, dipshit.”

“And just where exactly do you think that is right now?” He replied petulantly. A grimace pulled at the side of his mouth as he turned to fix her with a cold stare.

“Jasper’s.” Raven said confidently. “Believe it or not, I do talk to people. While the world - thank god - _does not_ revolve around you, unfortunately for me you do crop up in conversation from time to time.” Raven returned his stare. “Clarke mentioned that you moved out, much to Bellamy’s delight.” 

Murphy barked out a bitter laugh in response. “Yep,” he snapped. “I totally chose to ‘move out’ of Bellamy’s comfortable spare room onto Jasper’s disgusting pull out.” Murphy reflexively wiped the back of his hand across his nose with a sniff. “Not that that’s an option anymore. Whatever. It’s not like it’s any loss. At least I won’t have to listen to him pounding that med student anymore.” 

“Charming.” 

Raven tapped her fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as she turned off down a side road opposite the old comprehensive. The tree-lined suburban semis gave way to maisonettes and overgrown drives. Murphy stayed silent, eyes averted out the window. They flickered back and forth across the reeling backroads as he digested the familiar scenery like an old movie. The lamppost at the bottom of the hill where Myles threw his shoes so he’d have to walk to school in his socks; the street corner where Connor kneed him in the stomach and ran off with his lunch money and his dad’s watch; the house he stayed in for a while after his mom died. 

The silence was making her nervous, he could tell, but he wasn’t ready to talk yet. He wondered briefly if she remembered the day they met, all those years ago. Even then she had been a force to be reckoned with. He remembered the thrill as the lit match finally took round the back of the science block and then the momentary jolt of fear as he felt a firm hand clap him on the shoulder to spin him around.

_“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”_

_He doesn’t have time to connect the voice with a face because the next thing he knows he’s flat on his back looking up into the midday sun. He pulls himself gingerly into a sitting position and stares disbelievingly at the sight in front of him. The girl before him stamps aggressively on his perfectly formed little fire and, as her heavy combat boots snuff out the flickering embers of his revenge, he can’t help the flush of humiliation that creeps over him at the knowledge he’s become a punching bag for teenage girls now._

_When she seems satisfied that the fire is out for good she rounds on him anew, her eyes ablaze with their own kind of fire. He pulls his feet up, ready to turn and tail it at a moment's notice, but for now his intrigue has him rooted. She looks like she could tear him apart._

_“I asked you what you were playing at.” She folds her arms and shifts her weight over her left leg. “You could have destroyed my bike, idiot.”_

_Murphy smirks. “That was kind of the point, genius.”_

_The raven-haired girl shoots him a filthy look and raises her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”_

_He bites back a snigger and the urge to spit back a sarcastic remark and instead opts to elaborate. He’s not really sure why. “That was the point - to ruin their precious bikes.”_

_The girl raises an eyebrow at him as though this doesn’t really excuse anything but she no longer looks like she wants to pummel him into the ground so he’s counting it as a win. “Who?” She demands._

_He can feel his smirk flicker at the question, but if she notices she doesn’t say anything. His tongue flicks out absently to the corner of his dry mouth, a nervous habit. “Connor and Myles, 10G.”_

_He holds her accusatory stare from where he still sits on the floor and in turn she holds the silence between them. She doesn’t make a move to answer him, merely gives a perfunctory nod at the names. And for some reason that he can’t quite fathom, as his cold blue eyes fixate on her burning brown gaze, he finds himself unburdening. The words cascade like vomit from his mouth and even though he wants desperately to stuff them all back in they’re slipping through his lips and fingers like sand. The way they beat him up on the way to school and steal his things; the way they laugh about his mom and the fact that everyone leaves him. The way he’s going to be 14 next week and somehow that was a good time to decide he’s too much of a handful so he’s back in care._

_She hasn’t moved in the time it takes for him to purge all the acid from his conscience but something flickers behind her eyes when he’s finished, not pity he doesn’t think but something else. Whatever it is, it seems to make up her mind. She whips something large and heavy out of her rucksack in a lightning fast move that has him bracing for impact._

_But it doesn’t come. He breaks her stare for a moment to take in the tool before him. She extends the wrench with a toothy grin. “Do you know how to loosen a wheel nut?”_

Murphy swallowed a smile at the memory of Connor and Myles sprawled in a heap at the foot of the lamppost beneath his dangling shoes. He remembered the euphoric feeling as he stood on the pegs of Raven’s bike: her long hair whipping the side of his face; the wind rushing in his ears; one hand gripping her shoulder and the other waving a smug middle finger at their scrabbling forms as they raced past. They had roared with laughter as the 55 mowed down one of their spinning wheels, buckling it beyond repair, and, although it hadn’t been the explosive revenge he intended, he’d worn a shit-eating grin for a week. 

A block of student flats started to rise up on the right and Murphy shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I told you. Jasper’s isn’t an option. If that’s where you’re taking me, you might as well just let me out now.” 

“I heard you.” Raven countered as she indicated to pull up outside. “But I thought you might want to collect your things.” 

There was an awkward silence. Murphy ran his hands through the damp hair at the back of his neck and mumbled something unintelligible. 

“You what?” 

“I said I don’t have anything there. There isn’t anything. Nothing. It’s all gone.”

“All of it?” Raven looked him up and down and waited for him to explain. When it seemed that no explanation was forthcoming she prodded again. “What about your clothes? Your wallet?” Murphy scratched at his stubble. “Bank cards, ID?” 

Murphy sighed irritably and rummaged around in the bottom of his left shoe to produce a couple of battered plastic cards. “There. You happy?” Raven stared incomprehensibly at the cards he brandished. For once she seemed to be stumped for something to say and Murphy decided he’d had enough of the charade. “Look, just forget it. I’m getting out here.” 

As he unfastened his seatbelt and rammed the cards in his pocket, Raven flicked the door lock and shifted into first. Murphy rolled his eyes as he tugged aggressively at the handle to no avail. He threw himself stubbornly back into his seat as she pulled away. 

“Just put your damn belt on, Murphy.” 

Just like that he seemed to have sucked all the air out of the atmosphere. Murphy felt his throat constricting as though he would choke on his own bile and lies and secrets and just like before he felt the sudden urge to pour it all out for her to see. He clipped his belt back in with a snap and leant forward to clasp his head in his shaking hands. 

“I screwed him over.” Murphy rubbed at his dry eyes and ran a palm over his bruised cheek. “I told you before that I made some bets I couldn’t make good on. Well, they came knocking for the money and I didn’t have it. So I threw him under the bus. Said he owed me and to come back later and I’d have the cash ready for them. Except he caught me stealing out of his emergency drawer, made me empty my pockets. Found his watch, the necklace he’d bought for whatever-her-face-is.”

Raven stared pointedly at the road ahead. She knew well enough by now not to interrupt and at this precise moment in time, she wasn’t even sure what she could say. 

“He started yelling at me but I’d had too much to drink by that point to really know what he was saying so I was just yelling back even though I knew he had every right. He started grabbing my things and chucking them down the stairwell. I mean, shit, he was like some crazy scorned wife in a fucking movie. My clothes, my shoes, everything. They turned up halfway through for the money and he shoves me out into the corridor telling them to take their pick for whatever I owe them.” Murphy’s lips twisted into a sour grin and he huffed out a terse laugh. “They took everything. Turned my pockets out, stole my wallet, my phone, all my clothes and shoes off the stairwell. And when they were done and they decided it wasn’t quite enough, they treated me to a nice little reminder of why you should always keep on top of your finances.” 

His confession hung heavily in the air between them. Raven felt the familiar, painful twist in her gut as she imagined the betrayal Jasper must have felt at finding Murphy rifling through his belongings in an attempt to sell him out. The anger, the grief, the anguish. She had been there too many times before and, as she pulled into her usual spot outside her apartment complex, she was suddenly concerned that perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.


	3. Chapter 3

This was definitely not what she had intended when she got back in her car in Polis to retrieve Murphy. Sure, in the back of her mind she had entertained the notion that he had probably crapped up again but, honestly, taking advantage of Jasper and trying to make off with his money wasn’t something she had anticipated. The moment when he’d made to storm off outside the student accommodation had felt like an eternity. She’d felt the buzz of the adrenaline coursing through her limbs and the itching sensation that flooded her fingertips as she realised she was reaching for the locks. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to let him leave. The alarm bells were ringing: drunk, desperate... disaster. And yet, even then, she had seen the shame that he felt, the guilt and the embarrassment of what he had become. It manifested itself in the lewd comments and crude sneers - well-worn armour, a defence, even if he couldn’t admit it out loud just yet. Raven thought back to the boy she once knew, the man he had wanted to be, and realised she couldn’t turn her back on him again. Not yet. 

He had regained most of his composure on the way up from the car park after he had unloaded on her in the Jeep. Striding into her apartment like he owned the place, he exuded arrogance and overconfidence in a way that belied the desperation he must have felt as he tore apart yet another friendship to dig himself out of a hole. But when he turned to face her, his eyes gave him away. They wavered, uncertain, seeking confirmation, reassurance. 

Raven set her keys on the sideboard and started to shrug off her jacket. Something in her demeanour must have given him what he needed because he took the opportunity to survey the space. His observant eyes scanned over the grey two piece suite, taking in the toolbox under the coffee table and the stack of old grease-stained newspapers she used instead of dust sheets. Raven caught him smothering a grin as he inspected the 1930s Philco cathedral radio she was restoring and watched it sour as he traced his fingers over the frames of the couple of photographs dotted on the windowsill. Frozen memories and forgotten smiles. Stills of her life before and rare moments of happiness since. 

Murphy lingered over a faded polaroid in the back. The one from when Finn’s parents had taken her on a daytrip down to the coast. It was the first time she’d seen the sea. Finn’s half buried in the sand with an assortment of shoddily constructed castles in his lap and she’s knelt behind him, hands thrown over his shoulders in an enthusiastic squeeze. Her hair is sodden and tousled, salt-curled tendrils plastered to her face and neck, and there’s sand dusting her hands and forearms but Finn’s laughing at something just outside the frame and she’s beaming directly down the lens. 

Turning it leisurely in his fingers, Murphy placed the photograph neatly back on the shelf, revealing a touch more deference than his spiky exterior intended. He returned her watchful gaze with a pout. “Cute.” 

Raven rolled her eyes and stalked into the kitchen. She flicked the kettle on and busied herself in the cupboards, fetching two mugs and the instant coffee out from over the sideboard before retrieving the milk from her sparse fridge. She felt a ridiculous wave of self-consciousness ripple through her stomach as she wondered if he would judge her lack of fresh food and uninspiring freezer meals before chiding herself for even letting it cross her mind. Who even had time for cooking, anyway. She was the one doing him a favour here and he literally had nothing right now. Shit food was better than no food. He was in no position to judge her. 

When she returned to the living room, Murphy had settled down on her sofa. To anyone else he might seem relaxed, or at the very least comfortable, with his legs crossed, grubby shoe resting lightly on his knee, and his hand slung casually round the back of the cushion. But she could see the way his leg dithered and noticed the impatient tapping of his fingers on the armrest. He had always been highly strung, always coiled tight ready to jump in fists first, but he was measured and calculated and she knew that’s not what this was. 

Murphy muttered a thanks as he accepted the mug from her and held it precariously on his knee. Raven tried not to imagine the mess he might make if he spilled it and then realised he’d probably already left worse on her sofa, judging by the smell of his mud-caked jeans. 

She shimmied back into the opposite corner of the sofa, her right leg nestled beneath her, toes curling under the back cushion. Raven hugged her left leg up with her elbow and sipped her coffee, eying Murphy warily over the rim of her mug. It was now or never, she decided. If she gave herself any time to really consider the repercussions she was pretty sure her brain would implode. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she found herself making him an offer.

“A week, tops.” She blurted out. Murphy didn’t move but his blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. _Yeh_ , she thought, _that’s got your attention_. “I haven’t got a spare room but, y’know, beggars and choosing and all that. You can stay on the sofa til the end of the week. It should give you enough time to fix your face up, find a job… get a new place to crash.” 

The awkward silence was broken by a soft laugh. Murphy smiled up at her brightly with genuine amusement. When she did not return his mirth, he stilled.

“Oh,” he breathed. “You’re serious?” Murphy sat upright and leant forward onto his crossed knees. “You seriously think I can land a job and a new place within the week?”

“I never said you had to buy your forever home and snag your dream job, but yeh. Seriously, that’s all I’m giving you. And I think that’s pretty generous, considering.” Raven could feel her temper creeping up her neck in a hot flush, the need to defend and justify herself both insistent and irritating at the same time. “I don’t care whether you clean toilets or sweep the streets or empty bins but it’s about time you started fixing your life up and stopped scabbing off your so-called-friends. You don’t have enough left.”

She thought she saw Murphy wince but he raised an eyebrow and brushed it off. “It’s unrealistic, Raven.” His jaw clenched, teeth gritted as he bit back. “Even if I could con my way into some minimum wage shithole there is no way anyone would lease me a place to live right now.”

“I’m not expecting you to miraculously find a rental agreement, Murphy, but you’re going to have to make arrangements somewhere else. There must be someone left you haven’t pissed off.” Raven fired back. 

“Yeh, sure, people are just queuing up to take in this stray.” He snapped. “Get your head out of your ass, Reyes.” Murphy lifted the mug to his lips and drained the contents, slamming his mug down forcefully on the coffee table. 

“Careful, Murphy.” Raven warned dangerously. “You’re about ten seconds away from losing the one offer you’ve got going for you right now.” Raven pushed herself inelegantly to her feet and swiped his empty mug off the table. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about him staying after all. “Take it or leave it, Murphy. By all means scuttle off back to wherever you intended to slum it tonight, but don’t you think for one second you can worm your way back in here later if you leave now. Like I said: one-time offer.”

Raven limped purposefully back into the kitchen and rinsed the mugs in the sink. Attempting to compose herself, she took several measured breaths while she dried up. Murphy had been back all of one hour and already she felt like she’d worked herself up in knots. She wondered briefly what it said about her that she continued to drop herself into these kinds of situations but decided to box that up for another time. Wandering back into the living room, she felt his eyes trained cautiously on her back. She rooted around in the airing cupboard. 

“We good?” She remarked flippantly, looking over her shoulder briefly and hoping that she looked far more sure of herself than she actually felt. 

Murphy glanced up at her from under his stark eyebrows, fixing her with an intense stare. His eyes flickered momentarily over her, searching for some kind of trick or sign that this was just a cruel joke to her. He settled his eyes somewhere around her feet and gave a curt nod, chewing thoughtfully on his scabbing lip. 

“Ok, then.” Raven threw a rolled up bath sheet at him and he ducked as it clipped his head. “Second door on the right. Stick your things in the basket when you’re done, they’re gonna need a heavy cycle.”

Murphy gripped the towel with both hands and looked at her like she’d grown another head. “You're kidding, right? You know I don’t have anything to change into. I’m not sitting here in a fucking towel while you wash my pants.” 

“Hey, who said _I’m_ washing them?” Raven grimaced at the thought. “But you sure as hell won’t be sitting on my sofa again until they’re clean so I suggest you suck it up. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re damp and muddy and if the smell is anything to go by you’ve spent most of the night in your own sick and piss. You are damn lucky I let you in the car. So why don’t you do us both a favour and go wash up.”

If looks could kill, Raven was pretty sure she’d be dead twice over by now but the more he glared at her the funnier she found it. She smiled at him in the hopes of relieving some of his embarrassment but then dashed all efforts when she shamelessly gave him a once over and quipped: “Besides, it’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

* * *

As he slammed the door, a little unnerved by Raven’s blatant sexual innuendo, Murphy faintly registered that her cramped bathroom did not have a lock. It made sense, he supposed. What was the point in a one bedroom apartment. And it’s not like he was worried. It would be impossible to accidentally stumble in on him really - his absence in her living room would make his presence in the bathroom obvious and she knew full well he was in there currently. She had practically ordered him in there. Though it crossed his mind that it would be less clear whether she was in here or whether she was in her bedroom. Maybe now was the time to develop manners and take up knocking. Or perhaps they could agree on leaving the door ajar when the bathroom was available. Murphy shook his head and told himself to stop making things weird. They’d shared a space plenty of times before and managed perfectly fine. Now was not the time to start overthinking.

Murphy appraised the damage in the mirror. His face was a mess but he’d definitely looked worse. Raven was right: they hadn’t broken his nose and he was grateful that the cuts and bruises, while shocking, were at least superficial. He inwardly groaned as he inspected his clothes. Murphy had known it was bad, he wasn’t totally senseless, but now that he looked closer he could clearly identify where he had lain in several of his own bodily fluids and he cringed at the thought that this was the first real impression he’d given Raven since they’d parted ways. Sure they had run into each other at Bellamy’s that one time, but he was pretty sure they’d subconsciously kept at least one wall between them at all times and, besides, he had been too busy drowning his emotional insecurities and not so subtly arguing with his girlfriend. 

A sharp pain as he lifted his shirt over his head told him he’d probably got a few bruised ribs in addition to his face. He ran his fingers gingerly over the discolouration that he could see blossoming in the mirror and figured he was lucky that Raven had kicked him in the other side. Murphy carefully peeled off his saturated jeans and felt a sense of relief that the majority of the grime appeared to be on the front, where he had clearly spent all night with his face in the dirt. At least the mess he had left on Raven’s upholstery would be minimal and mostly rainwater. 

Although the coffee had gone some way to washing the bad taste out of his mouth, Murphy still felt like something had crawled inside him and died. He eyed up the contents of the small shelf under the mirror and contemplated just how pissed Raven would be if he used her toothbrush. He opted instead for a swig of her mouthwash and added toiletries to his list of shit to buy. As he bent over to spit in the sink he felt the familiar weight in his head and hoped that the hot water and steam would relieve the pounding inside his brain. 

Murphy drew the curtain across the tub and gave a quiet snort at the whimsical duck pattern. He turned the knob on the shower until the pressure was enough to sting as it lashed down on his naked chest. When the heat began to make his sensitive stomach roll, Murphy thanked a nominal deity for the fact that he had already emptied it all over the playground. But despite the fact that there was nothing left to bring up, he still felt the saliva pool in his mouth in that distressing way which filled him with a futile panic. He let his shoulders slump until his burning forehead was pressed forcefully against the cold tiles, willing the sensation to pass. In contrast to the humid heat of the now steamy bathroom, Murphy shivered as the familiar wave of coldness washed over him and sent palpitations through his hollow body. He pressed his eyes shut tightly and leant further into the tiles. Focusing on the thundering of the cascading water, he puffed heavy, shaking breaths rapidly through his nose and brought his fists up to grind painfully into his temples. And when he could no longer fight the inevitable, he slapped his palms impotently against the wall to steady himself and coughed out the unavailing retch with a sob, viscous ribbons of saliva trailing from his gaping mouth. Murphy tried in vain to squeeze away the tears that tracked their way down his prickling cheeks. He blinked away the salty haze and let the streams of mucus drip and dangle, watching as they swung fitfully with each shuddering pant. 

Murphy braced himself against the tiles and cursed the familiar tremors that wracked his aching muscles as he lifted a trembling hand to wipe away the residue from his mouth. He turned head on into the spray and let the hot water rinse away the evidence of his latest episode. Running his hands through his hair to sweep it back out of his eyes, Murphy looked around in search of some shower gel or body wash, god he’d even settle for bubble bath. To his dismay he found only an ornate dish with what appeared to be a bar of yellow soap. What was that Raven had said about beggars and choosing? 

Despite his reservations, he had to admit that the fragrance was enticing. Definitely not something he would ever choose for himself but it was delicate and feminine, the clean citrus tang of lemon with subtle hints of peppermint. As he lathered up the bar between his hands and began to run it over his arms and chest, it dawned on Murphy that he was washing his body with Raven’s soap. Well, _obviously_ : he was in her bathroom. But the intrusive thoughts in his head reminded him that that meant Raven had also been washing with it and the act somehow felt infinitely more intimate. It conjured up unsolicited images that he had no business envisioning and, as he traced the bar along his taut shoulders, he tried desperately to stamp out the ridiculous, delusional fantasies that suddenly filled his mind as he imagined the way the suds would cling to her olive skin as she traced her own sensual trail across her full breasts and… 

_Fuck!_ Murphy clenched his fist around the slippery bar in an effort to quell the inappropriate thoughts that rampaged through his head and damn near projected it across the room. He fumbled momentarily as he recovered the soap and attempted to calm his racing pulse. _Well, this is going to be a problem_ , Murphy sighed. He quickly replaced the soap in the dish, finding it impossible to continue rubbing it across his naked body without adding to his already aching erection. Murphy squeezed a generous dollop of shampoo into his palm and scrubbed vigorously at his scalp in an effort to distract himself. He focused on the scrape of his ragged nails against his skin and wondered what on Earth had come over him.

* * *

By the time Murphy had resurfaced from whatever the hell he’d been doing in her bathroom, Raven had decided that it was practically lunch time and totally acceptable to chuck a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven. She was just about to slice them up when she heard him pad softly across the laminate floor of the living room and turned to find him hovering sheepishly in the kitchen doorway, clutching his dirty clothing like it was the only thing keeping him decent.

“I figured I might as well just get them straight in the washer.” He offered by way of explanation. 

“Sure,” she replied, waving the pizza wheel towards the washer dryer at the end of the narrow, galley style kitchen and turning back to the counter. “Detergent’s under the sink.”

When Raven made no effort to move over, Murphy gave a nod and apologised awkwardly as he squeezed past her. She pressed her lips together to suppress a grin at his discomposure. He had hesitated, clearly deliberating the lesser of two evils as he decided whether it would be worse to brush past her with his clothing or his body and eventually decided not to subject her to his soiled garments. _Correct move_ , she thought, _those jeans are disgusting_. She did however, pull in slightly closer to the counter as he passed; he’d never been particularly tactile and he had made no pretence of his self-consciousness earlier. He didn’t like to be vulnerable - who did? Still it wasn’t quite enough to prevent the skim of his hand across the small of her back as he attempted to shimmy his way between her and the opposite counter. Raven shivered slightly, an involuntary reaction to the unintentional contact and hoped it wasn’t noticeable. She wasn’t shy or embarrassed but something about the gesture surprised her; it was as though it was familiar in a way that, after all this time, it shouldn’t be. _Whatever_ , she dismissed the feeling, _it’s just Murphy_. 

Murphy crouched down in front of the washer, a scowl plastered across his face as he studied the numbers and programmes on the dials, and despite her amusement Raven decided it was only fair to put him out of his misery. “You want number 8 at 30 degrees.” She smirked. 

Murphy let out a small, abashed laugh and gave her a contrite smile as he set the programme. “Thanks.”

Raven clutched her hand to her chest in mock horror. “Did I.. Was that.. Did John Murphy just express his gratitude for me?” 

Pushing the start button, Murphy stood up lazily, arms folded. He pursed his lips in what she thought was probably meant to be some kind of glower but actually just looked more like a pout. He tilted his head to the side as he appraised her and ran his tongue along his front teeth with a quirk of his lips. “Clearly a hideous mistake on his part that will almost certainly _never_ happen again, considering the staggeringly undeserving recipient.” 

Raven snorted obnoxiously as she carried the pizzas into the living room. “Please. While I could absolutely believe that you will never display any manners ever again, you are deluding yourself if you try and convince anyone that I am anything less than awesome.”

“Ah, the classic Reyes modesty. How have I managed all these years without it?” 

For a fleeting moment, Murphy seemed to have parked his insecurities and had collapsed comfortably into the corner of her sofa with a generous slice of pepperoni. But as usual, Raven couldn’t resist a final jab.

“Seems to me like you haven’t.” 

It wasn’t that she had intended to slight him. The retort had formed quickly on her sharp tongue and, before she knew it, it had sliced mercilessly through the tentative peace between them. She watched the walls go back up behind his expressive eyes: the muscle clenched in his jaw. Perhaps it was bitchy, but it was also true and maybe a part of her still thought he deserved it. It was true, she couldn’t quite face the thought of abandoning him in his toxic self-made hole, but a latent anger still lingered within her. One thing was certain: they would never be the same again. He’d made sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it occurred to me as I was posting this chapter that my working knowledge of Americanisms is pretty poor (e.g. when I said pants I meant the kind you wear under your jeans - but I guess the other works just as well in this context?) 
> 
> Please feel free to mentally override any Britishisms that look horrendously out of place or, y'know, leave me some friendly suggestions :) 
> 
> (equally if I have totally hashed an attempted Americanism!)


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of that afternoon had been uncomfortably quiet. Raven recognised the damage her last poisonous barb had done but rather than apologise she had flicked on the telly in the hope of drowning out the desperate silence that had descended over Murphy. He had picked dutifully at his slice of pizza until it was finally gone but it was clear that he had become disinterested and he did not take up another, despite the fact that Raven suspected he probably hadn’t eaten particularly regularly over the last month or so. He’d always been wiry and angular but with each movement, as he fidgeted to find the most unassuming position to protect his modesty, she could see the contours of his spine, the protrusion of his scapulae as he flexed and crossed his arms. The bruising that had darkened steadily across his ribs served only to highlight their prominence. 

Murphy could feel her watching him, that much was clear. She could see it in the way the muscles tensed in his jaw and his neck. Raven didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was; she wasn’t so sadistic that she derived any kind of pleasure from it, in fact it was making her feel pretty shitty. She’d made a mess with her stupid remark, even more so than the mess they were already in. One look at his back and his arms told her that he’d had more than his fair share of punishment over the years. Some she recognised: the faded silver of childhood traumas forever etched in flesh. Others were clearly more recent: the jagged, puckered ridges were angry, wounds that had required stitches but never received. 

Raven wondered what he’d look like if emotional scars had physical manifestations. Except, she supposed, they did. They manifested in the way he shut everyone out, the nervous flicker of his eyes and the way he carried himself, the perpetual tension that gnawed at his limbs. Maybe she hadn’t physically hurt him, but he’d felt the sting of her words and it was not fair. His words echoed in the recesses of her conflicted mind: _I never asked you to come rescue me_. _She_ had gone back for him. _She_ had brought him back here. And despite his reservations he had grasped the line she threw him, tentatively reached out to her, before she snatched it all away again in a moment of spite. Raven swallowed down the rising lump in her throat: guilt.

“Can you not?” Murphy’s choked words snapped Raven out of her reverie. His eyes were still trained on the floor and he had not bothered to turn round and confront her. He didn’t need to say any more. She knew what he meant. 

The air still bristled between them and Raven decided that a bit of space wouldn’t go amiss. She did not deign to respond to his quiet plea and instead made her way into the kitchen to clear up the remnants of their lunch. It occurred to her then that space was something they just didn’t have. Her tiny, one bedroom apartment was not designed to cope with the animosities of cohabiting strangers. No, that was the wrong word. They weren’t strangers. Maybe they should be, after all that was said and done and the years that stretched between them, but Raven had surprised herself. The speed with which they had fallen back into old ways, the push and pull. It was oh-so brief, the banter they bounced between them in the kitchen, but it had been easy… and it scared her.

It was ridiculous, she told herself. It was just one week. That’s all she had offered and that’s all he was getting. She’d be back at the garage tomorrow so, for at least the next four days, she would only have to see him for a couple of hours a day. The nagging thought that Murphy had a better deal tugged at the corner of her mind. He would have plenty of Raven-free time in her apartment but Raven’s only Murphy-free time would be at work and, while there was nothing quite like working out your problems and frustrations with a hammer, she wasn’t convinced it would be enough. 

Raven dried the last plate and stacked it in the cupboard over the counter. It was more of an auto-pilot thing really, but somehow she found herself checking the washing machine. The cycle had finished and a quick sift through his clothes confirmed that they were finally clean, the traces of his night in Arkadia erased, at least from his jeans and his shirt. Raven quickly stuffed them back into the machine before she had time to think too deeply about how the smell of her detergent on his damp clothes made her feel. Long forgotten memories bubbled, unbidden, to the surface. Bitter winter nights when he’d waited in the pouring rain. The weight of his feet in her lap, fuzzy socks still warm, fresh out of the dryer. Squabbling light-heartedly over the remote and snickering conspiratorially at their own private jokes. Raven slammed the door shut and shook her head to dislodge the memory, turning the dial determinedly to set the dryer.

* * *

Raven stormed back out of the kitchen and snatched her keys off the side before shrugging on her jacket. Murphy made no effort to move or speak but he was pretty sure she could probably feel the way the air vibrated around him as he tried to calm his nerves. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Perhaps she’d come to her senses and realised that she didn’t want his poisonous presence back in her life. Maybe she was going to throw him out or dump him back where she found him. He briefly registered the fact that, with his clothes still floating around in the machine, he was completely and utterly naked and at her mercy. She wasn’t so cruel, was she?

“Will you stop overanalysing this for one minute; your brain sounds like it’s going to explode.” Raven was adjusting the collar on her jacket. She kept her eyes averted from his and addressed the door as she slung a small haversack across one shoulder. “I need to pick up a few things. Y’know, like dinner. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.” 

She shut the door firmly behind her, but Murphy was relieved to find it wasn’t a slam. He’d got caught up in the moment earlier and let himself get too comfortable. They’d rallied a few jibes in the kitchen and he had stupidly allowed himself to fall back into old ways. It was nice, even if just for a moment, to pretend that the last three years were just some awful nightmare. That maybe this wasn’t just some weird alcohol-induced illusion and that they were still the same, after all this time. That they could be the way they used to be. He needed that. He needed somebody. He still needed _her_. But then she’d reminded him just exactly why he was sat on her sofa, eating her food, dressed in nothing but her towel while his clothes spun relentlessly in her washing machine. He hadn’t managed without her. And the truth hurt. 

But that was nothing in comparison to the weight of her eyes on his back as they had sat in stubborn silence together. It was almost as if he could pinpoint each scar she stared at. Her gaze had burned a pathway across his skin and it felt dirty - like pity. And pity was something they just didn’t do. At least, they never used to. He had prized their lack of pity as one of the most endearing features of their bizarre friendship. She didn’t need to pity him: she understood him. And that was all he’d ever really wanted. 

Murphy rubbed at his stubbled jaw and squeezed his fists tightly a couple of times, trying to pump the blood round quicker in an attempt to reduce the unpleasant sensation in his fingers. When that didn’t work, he rubbed his hands methodically up and down his thighs, unsure if he wanted the pressure to calm him down or provoke the courage to do what he so desperately wanted. He cast a glance at the door and waited, silently listening to make sure that Raven was definitely gone. 

Mind made up, Murphy pushed himself quickly to his feet. He tightened the towel nervously around his waist and slunk into the kitchen. He eyed the cupboards from the doorway, taking note of the over counter storage, the fridge. 

Just for a second, he hesitated. 

But then he felt his feet carry him further into the kitchen. The sound of the mugs and glasses in the overhead cupboard clashing together somehow disconnected from the rash movements of his trembling hands. Murphy watched as his arms moved seemingly of their own volition, wildly tearing through each drawer and cabinet in search of something, anything, to soothe the burning need that was rising in his chest. One after another: empty, empty, all empty. Nothing to satisfy his need.

Murphy flung the fridge door shut with a roar of frustration and slid weakly down to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinet. The handle dug painfully into his shoulder but he barely registered the feeling. He drew his knees up to his chest and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping to force back the embittered tears that were already biting at his eyes. _It figures_ , he thought. It was a natural response, he supposed, having spent a lifetime in a booze-soaked flat with nothing in the fridge but beer and bottles of wine. As he ground his palms further into the sockets of his eyes, hard enough to elicit a prickling of scattered white lights, he wondered what might have happened if he’d followed her example. If he’d had that same natural instinct instead of becoming consumed by it all. Murphy choked out a raw, wet laugh at the idea that there was ever another path he could have followed. All roads seemed to lead here. Not physically here, where he was snotting and dribbling all over Raven’s kitchen floor like some pathetic, worthless shell, but raiding yet another set of cupboards in yet another friend’s home in some piss-poor effort to fill that dark and empty hole inside himself. 

Murphy dropped his head between his knees and laced his fingers through his damp hair. He sucked in a claggy breath through his nose in an offensive attempt to clear the mucus from his sinuses and, forcing the exhalation through his mouth, once more concentrated on counting to ten. Breathing calmed, Murphy relaxed as the itching in his tight fingers began to ebb away. When he was sure they would no longer tremble, he rubbed his face ungracefully with his hands and grimaced as he wiped the tears and snot on Raven’s towel, leaving behind a glistening trail of shame. Something else for him to wash. 

Speaking of which, Murphy couldn’t help but think his clothes should have finished by now. He strained to read the time on the display of the washer dryer but couldn’t quite make it out through his salty vision. He crawled, undignified, across the cold laminate floor to rest his hands against the warm window and let out a weary sigh as he observed the dials. 

“Dick,” he scolded, banging his head lightly against the drum with each obscenity. “Fucking.. _Asshole_...” Murphy sat back and looked at the scene he had made in the kitchen with a disbelieving snort. “She put the fucking dryer on, you absolute piece of trash. She dragged your ass out of the dirt, drove you home, cleaned you up, fed you and now she’s drying your damn underpants in her fucking dryer. And what do you do? You trash her kitchen looking for booze. Nice move, jackass.” 

Murphy gave himself a minute to wallow and then decided it would be in his best interests to clean up before Raven got back and realised what he’d been up to. He was pretty sure he’d be out on his ear if she walked through the door right now. He pulled himself up off the floor and set about righting the chaos he had ensued upon the cupboards, thankful that he had at least not broken anything in his fervour. 

When he was content that everything was back where it should be, Murphy drifted back into the living room. The events of the previous day and night, coupled with his horrendous hangover and the emotional rollercoaster he seemed to be riding today left him feeling exhausted. He crashed on the sofa and before long found that the din of the telly made him even more irritable. Murphy reached lazily for the remote and switched it off, chucking it back on the coffee table with a grunt. He wasn’t sure exactly how long Raven intended to be gone but he did know that he couldn’t leave. He’d got no way of getting back in and based on her earlier threats he figured she was entirely serious when she said she wouldn’t be letting him back in. Besides, he didn’t want to be anywhere else right now. The bouts of self-loathing and unrestrained tears had left him wrung out. Pressing his face into the back cushion of the sofa, Murphy curled up into the foetal position and longed for sleep to take him.

_It’s dark when he arrives but he can already see her, illuminated by the moonlight, swinging listlessly in the middle seat. He smiles a little as he watches her drop her head to her shoulder and gaze up at the stars. He can only see the back of her head but he knows that’s what she’s staring at. She’s always got her head in the stars. It’s clear she’s started without him but he’s not bothered. The last few days have been rough._

_Murphy sparks up a cigarette and tucks the box in his back pocket. He’s light on his feet and it’s not difficult to sneak up on her when she’s in one of these moods. He sucks in a drag, the cigarette resting casually between his pursed lips, and gently clasps his hands over her eyes. There’s a small jolt of pride in his stomach when he feels the smile in her cheeks against his fingers and he lets out a shaky hiss of smoke when she brings her cold fingers up to cover his own. If she asks, he’ll tell her it’s the shock of her icy hands but he knows that’s not quite true._

_From where he’s not quite pressed up against her back, he can feel the light movement of her shoulders as she chuckles. “I’d apologise for the cold reception but since you’re over half an hour late I’m gonna call us even.”_

_Murphy returns her laugh good-naturedly. “I could have been anyone.” He teases, leaning in a little to breathe in her ear with a smile._

_Raven runs a hand blindly down his wrist and neatly whips the cigarette from where his lips are a whisper away from her neck. “Unlikely.”_

_He drops his hands to his pockets as she turns to look at him, softly blowing faint curls of smoke into his face. Murphy swallows carefully. He wonders if she has any idea, if she’s doing it on purpose, or whether she just doesn’t understand the effect she has on him. Maybe one day, he thinks, he’ll have the courage to ask her. But not today. He’s pretty sure she’s the only friend he’s ever had and, as far as he’s concerned, it is a miracle she hasn’t abandoned him already. There’s no way he’s giving that up, not for anything._

_Murphy snags the bottle from by her feet under the swing and steps into the seat to her left. The chains jangle as he miscalculates the drop and lands more heavily than he intended. The whiskey is sour and feels like it strips away some of his soul as it burns its way down to warm his stomach, but it doesn’t matter; it’s free. Well, free - stolen. Same thing, right? He knows she’s probably swiped it from under the sink and that if her mom sobers up long enough to notice it’s gone there’ll be hell to pay. But that’s a Future Raven problem. She’ll worry about that another day._

_The night is comfortable as they sit in relative silence. They pass the bottle between them and he lights her cigarettes for her. Every once in a while she sniggers at nothing in particular and he pretends he’s not remotely bothered by it. She’s drunk enough that she’s started winding up the chains on her swing. He smirks a bit when her toes lose their grip on the rubber and she starts spinning wildly, squealing and laughing, until it jerks back into place and he has to grab her arm before she disappears off the back. Now she’s staring at the stars again and he can’t help but wonder why it’s all so easy._

_He likes the way she never pushes him. It’s been two years since she stamped out his little fire round the back of the science block and, sometimes, he thinks that maybe she just started another one instead. Two years since he poured his heart out to her and he hasn’t stopped doing it since, but she’s never asked. Never, not once. And maybe that’s why he wants her to know. Maybe she already does. Why they understand each other so well. Why this friendship between them just works._

_Murphy leans his shoulders into the chains and tucks his hands into his pockets. The links pinch at his elbows but he’s just the right side of drunk not to care. He lets his gaze wander up to look at the waxing moon and, if he stares long enough, maybe he’ll get why she loves it so much._

_“Did I ever tell you about my mom?” He whispers. He’s not sure why he asks; he knows he hasn’t. Murphy’s not even sure she can hear him but then he feels her turn her gaze on him. She listens silently: no interruptions, no pity. Not when he tells her about the day his dad died in that accident, the night he was doing overtime to pay for his medical bills. Not when he tells her how his mom couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, not after that. Not even when he tells her how she chose the drink over his school meals. And definitely not while he cries as he recounts the last words she said to him before he found her in a pool of her own vomit._

_Murphy doesn’t bother to wipe away the tears and he knows he looks a state. He’s pretty sure there’s snot running down his face and he sniffs feebly in the hopes of making it better. It doesn’t. “I killed him.” He breathes._

_When he feels like he’s spilt his guts, his shoulders convulse with fresh sobs. Raven kneels in front of him and he feels her pry the bottle of whiskey from his stiff hands. He doesn’t even remember picking it up. She wobbles a bit as she stands, inspecting the label as though it might tell her what to do. Placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, she turns and throws it at the nearest trash can. She misses and it smashes, but they’re past caring; it’s the thought that counts._

_He’s not really sure how it happens, but when she turns back to face him she’s got both her hands on his shoulders and she’s standing impossibly close, wedged firmly between his knees. His eyes are level with her stomach and he counts her breaths with each rise and fall, knowing he doesn’t have the resolve to look up at her. Knowing that he’s terrified of what he might find there. And when she slides her fingers gently into the back of his hair, Murphy thinks his heart might actually stop beating. But it doesn’t. It only pounds more desperately as she clutches onto him, holds him firmly against her body in a warming embrace. If he could hold onto the way he feels right now, pressed up against her chest, the comforting caress of her fingers through his hair, the hand at his back, and stay this way forever then maybe everything would be ok. He gives in and wraps his arms tightly round her waist, gripping her closer as though she’s the only thing keeping him alive in this moment. Sometimes, he thinks, perhaps she is. And when she finally pulls away, letting her go might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do._

_“Look at me.” She says. Murphy stares sullenly at her shoes, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by his display of blatant affection or the fact that once he started he didn’t want to stop._

_“Hey, look at me.” She demands more forcefully this time, taking his chin carefully in her frozen hand and coaxing it up. He meets her eyes, flashing resolutely in the darkness. He watches them flit across his face as she brings the sleeve of her jacket up to dab at his eyes. Murphy winces as she draws it across his mouth, just under his nose, but she keeps a hold on him and doesn’t let go. The action should make him feel scorned, like he’s a child, but it doesn't. It’s all he can do to hold her unflinching stare. She cradles his face in her hands, soft but unyielding, and caresses a sure thumb across his raw cheek just beneath his puffy eyes, which are still fixed firmly on hers._

_“You are not defined by the choices they made,” she starts. “Did they screw you over? Yes. Did they hurt you? Undoubtedly. And are you_ angry _about it? I should fucking hope so. But none of that matters. What matters is what you do with it. The choices_ you _make. They are yours and yours alone. Where you go from here - that’s all you. You can do whatever the hell you want. You are strong and important and powerful.”_

_He can’t help the snort that escapes at that, but she smiles back at him regardless. “Hey, you could move the Earth and the stars if you wanted to. I’m serious. Come on, I’ll show you.”_

Murphy jolted awake with a start. For a moment it felt as though the world were still spinning, as though he were still lying there watching the stars revolve around them. He reached up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his brow and took a couple of steadying breaths, his heart still hammering in his chest. It had only been a dream but the memory was real. The sensations lingered on his skin and he shivered at the ghost of her fingertips. 

“It lives!” Raven’s voice carried brightly from the doorway to the kitchen. Murphy sat up abruptly, conscious that he’d been passed out on her sofa and terrified that he might have been giving away all his secrets in his sleep. Thankfully he’d managed to remain decent, the towel still wrapped snug around his legs. “I was starting to think you’d checked out on me.”

* * *

Raven scrabbled around noisily in the cutlery drawer for a couple of forks and bustled back into the living room, balancing an assortment of containers in one hand while she shooed Murphy’s legs off the sofa with the other. He sluggishly obliged and stared back at the outstretched container, bemused. She sighed heavily and waved it at him again.

“Truce?” Murphy’s eyes were guarded as he accepted the container, plucking a fork from her fingers. She took another deep breath; this was going to require some grudging effort. “Look. I was a bitch, ok? It just- what I said. It just kind of fell out. I’m not gonna say I didn’t mean it because, let’s face it, that would just be a lie but-” Raven pressed her lips together in a grimace. “I shouldn’t have said it. It was a dick move.” 

Murphy’s expression was still drawing a blank and Raven wasn’t entirely sure how to take it. Ok, maybe it would take more than a free chinese and some cheap self-deprecation to make amends but she was having trouble reading the room here.

“You are aware that that is not an apology, right?” The walls are still up and the statement is cold.

“I am. You are also aware that my observation was entirely accurate. And you know that I am nothing if not brutally honest.” Raven attempted a small smile. “It’s one of my finer qualities.”

Murphy snorted. There was a brief lapse in the tension and Raven felt the weight around her chest ease a little. “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The jibe was muted and carried no malice.

Raven shifted slightly in her seat; a murmur of hesitation thrummed through her. She shook it off quickly and reached for a small bag she had sequestered down the side of the sofa, throwing it nonchalantly at him before she changed her mind. Murphy caught it with his free hand and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. 

“Peace offering.” She mumbled, then waved her fork at him encouragingly. “Well, go on then. Aren’t you going to take a look?”

Murphy considered her for a moment before setting his container down on the coffee table. It was almost funny, the cautious way he peered into the bag. As if something might jump out and bite him. He stared at it dubiously for a few seconds and then reached in and drew out a three pack of black jersey trunks. “What’s this?” He whispered, forehead creased in bewilderment.

“Well, the last time I checked they were underwear. Just like the socks. Figured you might want more than one pair.” Murphy screwed his face up in further confusion and fingered the starched collar of a white button down shirt, frowning as he drew out the skinny tie she’d snatched on the way to the till.

“I-” Murphy huffed out a breath. He shook his head and tried again. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, they’re all just extra really. It’s not actually what I went for, but- whatever. Thought you might be more interested in the other bits.”

Murphy rummaged around in the bottom of the bag and Raven couldn’t help but smile when he ripped the flannel pyjamas impatiently from the carrier with a snicker. Raven laughed back and decided that he’d never moved so fast as he did right then to get out of that goddamn towel. He returned with a sheepish grin, fiddling with the drawstrings on the tartan pants, and muttered a small thanks before tucking into the noodles he’d abandoned on the coffee table. 

The apparent return of his appetite, or at the very least the fact that he was willing to let his hunger win out over his pride, went some way to soothing Raven’s worries that she had totally scared him off. Not that she wanted him to stay. It was going to be cramped for the next few days and it would likely take more time than she was willing to give him to rediscover any semblance of normality between them. But she found that she did want to give him a chance to make some better choices, even if she was pretty sure she shouldn’t. 

Although she usually appreciated the peace that accompanies a comfortable silence, Raven was not as keen on the increasingly scandalous noises Murphy made as he devoured his noodles like a starving animal. She reached over him to grab the remote from where he had thrown it on the table earlier and decided that dinner would be far more enjoyable once she could tune out his slurping and aggressive chewing. She thought, perhaps, that he might have got the message because he seemed to slow down as she flicked onto some obscure channel showing shitty old movies back to back til midnight. Or maybe he was just distracted by the black and white images and the embarrassing over-acting. 

Safely ensconced in his old man pyjamas, Raven noticed that Murphy seemed far more content. He had drawn his legs up and was lounging, cross-legged, in the far corner of the sofa, sifting thoughtfully through the last of his chicken and beansprouts. 

“Why’d you do it?” 

The question was casual enough but Raven sensed it was loaded. “Hm?” 

Murphy lowered his container. “You know what I meant. Why’d you buy me all the clothes?” 

Raven chased a chunk of char siu pork and refused to make eye contact. “Well to be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to wasting the water washing your undies every night. I don’t live here for free, you know. And besides, I was concerned you might have burrowed your little cockroach ass into one of my cushions by the time I got back and I’d have to deal with the fallout of you trying to hide your scrawny little body inside my sofa just so no one could look at you. Really, it was collateral.” 

He wasn’t buying it and she knew it. He pushed again. “Ok, so maybe the underwear was tactical. But what’s with the shirt and tie?” 

Raven just smirked. “It’s for your interview.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the gears whirring in Murphy’s head as he shot her a weird look.

“I don’t have any fucking interviews.” 

Raven stared into her chinese, aiming for somewhere between offhand and preoccupied. “You will.” 

Raven wasn’t sure if she had broken him or whether he was too confused to pursue the matter any further. Either way, the rest of the evening was uneventful. He dropped his interrogation and when the next film started they took it in turns to make fun of the poorly executed murders, the implausible cons and the hysterical women. After the last frame announced ‘The End’, Raven stood up and stretched before going to retrieve a couple of spare pillows and some sheets from the airing cupboard. 

“You can leave the telly on if you want. I’ve gotta be in for nine though, so I’m gonna call it a night.” 

Murphy nodded his understanding and turned the volume down a couple of notches. Raven shuffled off towards her bedroom to turn in but as she reached for the handle, Murphy called her back.

“Hey, Raven?” She paused. His voice was small in the semi-darkness. “Thanks. Really, y’know. For all of it.” 

Her own embarrassment at the sentiment was reflected in his wary eyes. She nodded and flashed him a tight-lipped smile. “Night, Murphy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next chapters are growing arms and legs and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or whether I've started waffling... 
> 
> Back to work next week for me (finally!) - hoping to keep up with a weekly update but if it takes a bit longer I promise I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, I'm probably just drowning in red tape and lockdown fallout!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should pop a TW here for sexual harassment/underage just to be safe...

As usual, Raven was up before the alarm. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered setting it at all, but she knew too well that the one time she didn’t set it would be the day she slept through til noon. Normally she was up about ten minutes early but she’d been staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour by the time she decided she might as well cut her losses and get in the shower. She’d slept fitfully, with regular interruptions and long periods of trying to settle back down. Any other time, Raven would have described herself as a heavy sleeper. She had a good routine; it didn’t take long to nod off once her head hit the pillow and she could guarantee she’d be out til the morning. Last night had been different. Every noise seemed to disturb her, no matter how familiar: the wind at the casement, the humming of the fridge, the knocking of the boiler as the thermostat clicked on. Subconsciously she knew it was because of the situation she’d got herself into, a situation that was currently snoring lightly on her settee. Raven guessed he had probably ended up on his back and was catching flies, as had so often been the case after a heavy night. Granted, he had spent the day lounging around her apartment and not out propping up some bar, but it remained a mystery just how much he had managed to consume the night before to get himself in such a state. Raven figured he was probably still horrendously dehydrated. 

When she could no longer stall the inevitable, Raven slipped on her favourite satin dressing gown and cracked the door to peer out into the living room. Murphy was still snoring slightly as she snuck through into the kitchen. Having confirmed her suspicions about his sleeping habits, Raven mentally high fived herself, only just resisting the urge to find something to drop into his open mouth as he lay sprawled on his back across the sofa. Without her usual solid eight hours, Raven was certain this would need to be a coffee morning so she pushed the door to, in order not to disturb him while she boiled the kettle and fussed around the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. Ordinarily, Raven would sit at her coffee table to eat but this morning that clearly was not an option. She could live with that for today but decided that Murphy needed a reality check if he was seriously going to start looking for work. He’d never been an early riser but that was going to have to change while he stayed here and the likelihood was that he would need to adjust his expectations. Back when he had his job at the restaurant, she could forgive him the late mornings. He’d usually work the evening shifts, getting in somewhere after midnight. Although, to be fair, the rational part of her brain argued, the arrangements were slightly different back then. 

Raven leant against the counter to sip at her coffee. The kitchen floor was cold and she could feel the way the flesh on her arms and legs rippled with goosebumps. She pulled her dressing gown closer in an attempt to stave off the sudden chill and bristled slightly. Maybe she should rethink her sleepwear for the time being. Raven was suddenly aware of just how much skin she’d got on show, her skimpy shorts just skimmed her cheeks and the v neck of her cami was deep set despite the lace trim. Even with her dressing gown pulled across her chest, the stiff peaks of her nipples were obvious, to the extent that strolling around in her lingerie seemed a little too intimate for whatever it was that they’d got going on at the moment. 

As she disappeared into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Raven wondered if Murphy had also clocked the absence of a lock and contemplated the risk of him disturbing her. It was more likely he’d find her with her trousers round her ankles than find her butt naked in the shower, since she was pretty sure she’d been able to hear the rushing water from the showerhead when he’d been in there yesterday. And even if he did manage to ignore all of that sensory information, she reasoned with herself, the curtain itself was opaque enough to obscure her from view. Raven swilled away what was left of the toothpaste in the sink and took a quick swig of mouthwash. She poked the beginnings of the bags under her eyes with a sigh and hoped that the shower would make her feel human enough to stomach the conversation she knew she was going to have to have with Sinclair when she got in. 

Raven drew the curtain across the tub and turned the water on to heat up. She pressed her ear briefly to the door and, when she was satisfied she could just about hear the muffled snores still coming from the sofa, she hung her dressing gown on the hook and dropped her cami set in the washing basket. She clambered into the tub, conscientious of her left leg in a way that was second nature now. The steam was starting to fog up the mirror and Raven took a moment to just close her eyes and stand under the stream, the water warming her bones and waking up the rest of her senses. 

Since she had woken up so early this morning, Raven allowed herself a little longer than usual to luxuriate in the shower. The lemon notes of her soap were heady in the humid air and it made her smile. She’d stumbled on the small, independent cosmetics store down one of the old side roads back when she was still getting used to her brace and the intoxicating aromas that permeated the street had drawn her in. The cosmetics themselves were of little interest to her but the overwhelming concoction of smells was both comforting and exciting and it became a regular stop on her daily lunchtime routine. Raven had tried many of the fragrant, handmade soaps but she always came back to this one. It was clean and sharp in a way that cut through a day’s layer of grease and engine oil but it had enough feminine character that it made her feel good about herself at a time when she had felt only insecure. 

Even now, the playful peppermint undertones and citrusy zest made her feel bold and invigorated. It had thrown her yesterday to smell her own scent on Murphy as he had emerged from the bathroom and brushed past her in the kitchen. At one time she had thought nothing of living in his pockets: boundaries blurred by shared spaces and loungewear; laughing at benign accusations and indignation caused by empty toiletries. _Of course it was, Reyes, I can smell you…_ Now she wondered if it had made him feel as she had. Maybe it wasn’t as innocent as it had seemed.

Raven pushed the thought aside and dried off, wrapping her hair tightly in the towel. She threw on her dressing gown and tied it securely before tiptoeing back into her bedroom to get dressed for work.

* * *

Murphy was woken by the unsuppressable urge to pee and only after he had barged his way into the bathroom and relieved himself did he consider that his pledge to gather his manners and knock on the door had already fallen dismally by the wayside. Luckily, he had not embarrassed himself this time and, if the condensation that clung the mirror was anything to go by, he guessed that Raven had probably already left for work or would soon be on her way out. 

Murphy was grateful that his headache appeared to have seeped away overnight, but his mouth was dry and he knew it had less to do with the fact that he’d probably been snoring and more to do with the copious amounts of alcohol that had led him to lie face down in a children’s playpark the other night. He trudged groggily into Raven’s kitchen in search of her coffee. While he waited for the kettle to boil, Murphy slugged back a half pint of water and refilled it again at the sink. Something on the fridge caught his eye as he set his glass back down on the side. He traced his fingers across the furred edges of a scrap of paper that had clearly been ripped hastily out of some kind of drafting pad. He huffed out a breathy laugh at the NASA magnet pinning it up, shaking his head at the cheap pun _(it’s only rocket science!)_. Murphy had always admired Raven’s hand, elegant but not quite cursive. Miles apart from his own unintelligible scrawl. Perfect for stealing notes or forging signatures.

_Get out and start fixing your life up idiot. You can start by going and getting your own toothbrush and investing in some deodorant. Spare key’s in the safebox - pincode is my birthday. Let’s hope for your sake you can remember when that is. P.S. No one hires a jackass in crappy boots, get yourself some proper shoes…_

Direct, as always. Murphy took one look at his decrepit boots and knew she was probably right. They’d laid them out on some old newspaper at the end of the kitchen the other night but they looked just as grim now that they had dried. They were caked in mud and other Murphy-based delights and the leather was scuffed and worn where he kicked his heels. There was no way he had enough cash left to replace them though and he was loathed to waste money on cheap shit that would fall apart within the month. Murphy was pretty sure that Raven was anal enough to have some boot polish stashed away somewhere. He could clean them up for now. 

Once he’d finished his coffee he set about searching for it. True to form, Raven had some tucked in a bag under the sink with the rest of her cleaning supplies. In the bag, he also found an assortment of cloths and a small brush which he assumed was made for just this kind of thing and so he sat crossed legged on the cold floor, hand in his left boot, diligently scrubbing at the dried dirt. It was surprisingly satisfying, watching the dust drift onto the crisped newspaper. The rhythmic scrubbing was the only sound apart from his own measured breathing. When he had removed all the dirt from both boots, Murphy started with the polish and buffed the black leather till it shone. He was pleasantly surprised with the end results. They were still tired and obviously well-worn but they looked more or less respectable again. Feeling fairly pleased with himself, he set them down on the laminate to dry and swept up the evidence of his labours. 

Murphy decided that he might as well make an effort if he was going to leave the apartment and risk running into people. His face was still a disaster but he could make up for it with the rest of his attire. He picked up a pair of the new jersey trunks Raven had brought home and a new set of socks. He wiggled into his freshly dried jeans and was about to throw on his shirt when he remembered the white button down still in the bag. Shaking it out, Murphy slipped it over his shoulders for size: a perfect fit. _What the hell_ , he thought, buttoning it up and tucking it into his jeans, _why not?_

When he’d stepped into his newly-polished boots and recovered his cards from down the back of the sofa, Murphy stuck his head cautiously out of the door, making sure to keep his foot well and truly wedged in the frame so that he wouldn’t lock himself out before he found the spare key. The safebox was screwed to his left as he peered out and he made quick work of the code, punching in the number combination with a staggering level of self-assurance. He grinned at his success, which was only marred by the fact that he wished he could have seen the look on Raven’s face as he rubbed it in. Like he was ever going to forget when her birthday was.

* * *

“So come on then,” Raven grunted through gritted teeth as she slid out from underneath the chassis of a tired SUV that had definitely seen better days. “Out with it.”

Sinclair handed her a grease stained rag for her hands before she made to wipe them on her jeans and turned his back to her as he pretended to fiddle with her rolling tool centre. “Out with what?”

Raven heaved herself up from the creeper trolley with a huff and picked up her canteen. She unfastened it and took a short swig before she raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what. I can tell you’ve got something to say about it. Why don’t we just cut to the chase?”

“I’m all ears if there’s something on your mind, Raven.” 

“I’ve been under this damn SUV for the best part of an hour now and you haven’t even asked what happened.” Sinclair looked over his shoulder with an innocent shrug. “I know you wanna know.” 

When he continued to hold his radio silence, Raven sighed and set her canteen down on the tool centre and jumped up on the bench on the back wall. Of course he was going to make her bring it up. Otherwise he knew she would just shut the conversation down before he’d had a chance to say his piece. And it was probably solid advice, it usually was. Definitely advice, never a lecture. But she was also pretty certain what that advice would be and she didn’t really want to hear it out loud. Fuck it, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I picked him up just outside Arkadia.” Raven flicked an imaginary speck of dirt off her jeans and looked up at Sinclair from under her eyebrows to see if he would take the bait. He merely nodded and pursed his lips. She sighed. “I was going to dump him back at Jasper’s but it didn’t quite work out like that. Turns out he’s not welcome anymore.”

“Seems like he’s not welcome many places at all anymore.” Sinclair closed the drawer he had been rearranging and looked up cautiously to meet her gaze. “Last you told me, he’d been asked to leave that kid’s place down the road. And before that he’d made a mess of things with his girl.”

Raven looked away at that. Sinclair was a good sounding board. He would listen quietly while she ranted about the recurring dramas that seemed to follow her friends around like a bad smell, humming and laughing in all the right places. It was nice to have someone who listened but sometimes it came back round to bite her on the ass. “Yeh, well… What was I meant to do - take him back to the park?” 

“No. But something tells me you had a pretty good idea where he’d end up when you left here yesterday morning.” 

Raven snapped her eyes up to glare at him. She knew she sounded like a petulant child when she replied. “How could I possibly have known Jasper threw him out? He didn’t even tell me til we pulled up outside. I-”

“I never said you knew that he had nowhere to go.” Sinclair stopped her, his hands held up in a brief surrender. “I just said I think you knew what you were going to do about it.”

Raven considered this. It wasn’t so far fetched and yet somehow the notion made her feel uncomfortable, embarrassed even. She hadn’t even told Sinclair what she’d done yet but it seemed he knew her well enough by now, perhaps even better than she knew herself because she was adamant she hadn’t had any intentions of taking him home as she drove back from Polis yesterday. Maybe she was just kidding herself. 

“Look,” Sinclair continued softly when she didn’t reply. He wandered over and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Not necessarily, not just yet. What I mean is- you’ve got a big heart, Raven. You always have and I hope you always will. It’s what makes you so passionate and hot-headed.” 

Raven folded her arms uncomfortably and leant over on her knees, casting a pointed look at Sinclair as she did so. 

“Yeh, I’m getting there.” He chuckled. He settled casually against the bench Raven was perched on. “How long is he staying for?” 

“I gave him a week.” Her words felt thin. Sinclair nodded thoughtfully. She rubbed her temples and grimaced. “Bought him some new clothes, just some essentials. Turns out homeless drunks don’t have wardrobes. Who’d have thought it, right.” The joke fell flat and she noticed that Sinclair still seemed deep in thought. There was silence for a few seconds longer than felt natural before he spoke up again.

“You know, I remember not long after you started here. You pestered me for a few hours on a Saturday and in the end I gave in. Figured I was doing you a favour - keeping you out of trouble.” He smiled fondly. “Should have known then, really. Couple of hours, my ass. Couldn’t get you out that damn door once you got in here. Still... best decision I’ve made in a long time.” 

Raven couldn’t help the smile that snuck in at that but she still shot him a quizzical look. She wasn’t really sure where he was going with this little trip down memory lane. 

“You’d only been here a few weeks when this scrawny little kid starts showing up across the street.” Sinclair laughs at the memory.

“Yeh, I remember. You asked me if he was some weirdo and if I wanted you to get rid of him.”

“Yeh, well, he looked like he’d been up to no good most of the time. All beat up and the like, clearly been scrapping. You know, sometimes he’d sit out there all day.” Raven sits back to listen a bit more closely. She remembered having the conversation about Murphy turning up to wait for her after work, how Sinclair worried he was following her or making trouble. But she was pretty sure he’d never mentioned that before. “Didn’t matter whether it rained all day, blowing a gale. I think he even sat in the snow one evening waiting for you to pack up your things and head out. I offered him to come in a couple times but he just shrugged it off and said you’d be out when you were ready.” 

“Anyway, the more I watched the more I came to accept that he was good for you. I couldn’t tell you why or what it was about him that made you light up the way you did but it was good to see you happy. Whatever was going on, it just seemed to melt away for a little while and I was thankful for that. You were always so serious. Still are I suppose.” 

Sinclair blinked away the memory and shook his head with a small laugh. “You know, the older you got, I was convinced you had a thing going on. I’ll never forget the day I came back from that recovery call-out and you weren’t half giving him hell on the forecourt. God he looked a state…”

Raven swallowed the lump in her throat and willed the buzzing in her ears to stop. She’d never told Sinclair what exactly had gone on that afternoon but she remembered it clear as day. The yelling and screaming and the utter fear that had coursed through her body. 

_“I’ve just finished clearing up out back, Wick. You good to lock up?”_

_Raven slings her pack over her shoulders and runs a hand through her damp hair to flatten the fly-aways. She can see Murphy sitting on the forecourt wall and gives him a grin and a wave. He raises an eyebrow and lifts a hand._

_“Sure thing.” She hears Wick call out from the front desk._

_Raven grabs her bike from out the workshop and wheels it through to the front._

_“I’m going to get off, then. You gonna lock me out?”_

_Wick taps out a few more things on the desktop and then moves to snatch up his car keys. “Nah, I think I’m about done here. Think I’ll head out with you. Here, I’ll grab the door for you.”_

_Raven rolls her eyes as he skirts past her quickly to hold the door as she wheels her bike through. He thinks he’s being discreet but she doesn’t miss the way he ‘accidentally’ grazes her back and she definitely doesn’t miss the way he fills the space in the doorway so she’ll have to brush up against him to get out._

_Wick chances a quick glance over at Murphy. He wears a nasty smirk. “I see your little boyfriend’s here to pick you up again.”_

_“Don’t call him that.” Raven sighs tiredly. The jibes were starting to get old._

_“Sorry, I forgot. It's not like he's actually here to pick you up. He’d need a car for that.”_

_“He’s 16, Wick. Give it a rest.” Raven waits for him to find the key for the shutters. He knows perfectly well which one it is; he’s just stalling._

_“Where’d you even find him, anyway? He’s like some mangey stray always skulking around out here. I can practically smell the desperation-“_

_“I said give it a rest, Wick.” Raven grits her teeth. Murphy’s watching her more closely now and she can tell he’s listening to every word. “Are you done yet? It’s literally the first one on the ring.”_

_“Look, I’m just saying. You could do much, much better than that. You need a real man, Raven.” He leers at her with what she can only presume he thinks is his most dashing smile._

_Raven resists the urge to smack him as his predatory eyes wander. It makes her skin crawl. She scoffs in disgust as she starts to move off down the forecourt. “Go fuck yourself, Wick.”_

_But he’s quicker than she anticipates and he grabs the hand she uses to flip him off to draw her in closer when he says: “Why don’t you let me know when you’re ready to let a real man give you what you need. I could think of something better for you to do with that sharp tongue of yours.” His breath on her ear makes her skin itch and she shakes him off forcefully to storm off down the drive, but not before he gives her ass a sound crack with the flat of his palm that stings in more ways than one._

_It takes a second to register that Murphy is no longer on the wall and she watches in horror as he strides across the forecourt, his eyes black and murderous. Wick is just finishing locking down the shutters as Murphy reaches him and, with a strength belied by his slight frame, spins him round with a clap of his hand on his shoulder. His fist slams into the side of Wick’s face with a nauseating blow and Raven drops her bike to rush over._

_“The fuck you think you’re playing at?” He’s yelling. “She’s 17 you sick bastard!”_

_Murphy swings another punch and lamps him right in the eye but his luck’s run out. Wick grabs him forcibly by the collar and drags him up to his toes. “Listen here, you little shit…” Wick gives him a shake. “ I don’t know who you think you are but-” He stops short as Murphy spits defiantly in his face. “Oh you’re gonna pay for that.”_

_Murphy just twists his lips into an arrogant half smile as Wick drops his collar and seizes him roughly round the throat, slamming him noisily against the shutters. As she careens across the forecourt, Raven’s aware that she’s screaming at them both to stop it but the sound is far away and it doesn’t seem as though either one of them can hear her. She reaches out to drag Wick off but he pushes her away without batting an eyelid._

_“You’re just some desperate, snot-nosed little brat, you know that? She’ll never want you. You’re pathetic. Following her around, waiting for whatever scraps she drops for you. And one day you’re gonna wake up and she’ll be gone. Off chasing some other low life project to fix up. And maybe then you’ll realise that you meant nothing all along.”_

_Murphy’s still smirking dangerously as Wick punches him point blank in the face. She hears the moment his nose breaks and the crunch ricochets as his head hits the shutter. Murphy doesn’t even flinch, he just sprays Wick with warm flecks of his gushing blood as he barks out a conceited laugh. It floods his mouth and stains his teeth: he looks like he could tear his throat out._

_“Why don’t you just scurry off back to whatever stinking hole in the ground it is that you came from, like the repulsive little gutter rat that you are.”_

_“Better to be a rat than a pervert.” Murphy bites back._

_Wick laughs bitterly and socks him in the gut with a grunt before dropping him to the floor. “Stay out of my way.”_

_Raven barely registers the rev of his engine and the way his tyres screech as he races off the forecourt. Murphy has pulled himself up off the asphalt and wipes at the drips on his chin. He runs his tongue over his bloody lips and cocks his head as she berates him._

_“What the hell were you thinking, Murphy?” The imprint of Wick’s fingers on his neck makes her stomach flip and her voice is shrill when she continues. “Is this some kind of joke to you? I mean- shit! It’s almost like you enjoy it!” He’s got his hands in his pockets now and he’s worrying at his lip with his teeth._

_“Do you have any idea what he could have done to you? He’s twice your fucking size Murphy. You can’t keep doing this - you can’t fix your problems with your fists. You’re gonna wind up in the hospital… or worse! Fuck! I thought he was going to… I mean, Jesus, Murphy look at what he did to your face.”_

_Raven starts to lift her hand to his cheek but falters when he pulls away with a shrug. He holds her eyes with an earnest stare and his voice is hard and frank when he speaks up._

_“It was worth it.”_

Wick never mentioned the fact that he’d been the one to break Murphy’s nose when he explained away his black eye with some vague story about a misunderstanding in a bar the previous night. Sinclair had shaken his head distastefully and made him work out the back til it had faded. If he ever noticed the change between them, he never said anything. Murphy continued to wait on the wall for her at the end of the day, despite Wick’s threat to stay away. They never addressed the fact that Murphy hit him first, or the fact that he definitely deserved it. But he never touched her again.

“Raven?”

“Hm?” Raven realised she’d zoned out for a moment. What had he been talking about? Oh, right. That. “Oh. No. It wasn’t like that.” Sinclair simply nodded so she protested a bit more. “We were just friends.” 

“Well, regardless, I know how much he meant to you.” Raven smiled as he patted her knee affectionately, before promptly souring the mood. “But I also know just how much he hurt you. And you can lie to yourself all you want about how you couldn’t care less, but you can’t lie to me. What he did to you, Raven, the way he left you? I will never understand. I will never understand what you did for him.” Raven made to interrupt him but he powered on all the same. “But I love you enough to respect that decision. For you, not for him. But I want you to know - I won’t do that again. Raven, he-”

“I know.” Her voice was soft but firm. “I know what he did.”

“Then you must understand, I can’t watch him hurt you like that again. I hope you can give him what he’s looking for, that he can turn this around. Really, I do. He was good for you once. I get it. But if it comes down to it, you need to learn when to let go. For the both of you.”

Sinclair drew her into a reluctant embrace. She knew he’d support her no matter what, he always did. She squeezed him back and burrowed her face gently into his shoulder. The action was comforting, but right now all she could concentrate on was just how readily he had voiced her deepest fears. What if he couldn’t turn it around? And what if she couldn’t turn him away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been one chapter ahead of myself this entire time but, having gone back to work this week, I really feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants. I'm desparate to stick to a weekly update but I don't want to rush it out half-assed. Really what I'm saying is, thanks so much for sticking with me this far and please watch this space for the next update!


	6. Chapter 6

Raven hadn’t needed any further encouragement when Sinclair popped his head round the shop door and told her to pack up and go home around five. Frankly, she was exhausted. The lack of sleep the night before had taken its toll on her and her head was still reeling from their earlier conversation. By the time she had finally hobbled up the last couple of stairs to her apartment and rummaged around in her bag for the key, Raven was just about ready to strip off and vegetate in front of the telly while stuffing her face full of crap. Except she couldn’t do that. Because now she had company. While she contemplated just exactly what she was going to do now that she had another person to feed, Raven hung up her jacket and slung her bag on the sideboard. Kicking off her boots, she surveyed the living room and noticed that the sheets and pillows were gone from the sofa. She had half expected to find him still asleep or at least lounging around waiting for her to get home. 

“Murphy?” She called out. 

A clatter from the kitchen confirmed he was in fact still here. The kitchen door swung open and he propped himself up the frame. “Hey, you’re back.”

“Well, no surprise there. I do live here y’know.” Raven replied sarcastically. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

Murphy rolled his eyes at her. She took a moment to have a good look at him. The superficial cuts on his face had scabbed over now but she could see where he’d been picking at one in his hairline. His tongue darted out quickly to the one on his lip to swipe away at a fresh dribble of blood where he must have just reopened it as he spoke. The dark stubble from this morning was clearly gone, he looked refreshed and much more youthful than he had the night before despite the deep purple blotting where the bruises had settled in, which meant he’d managed to find her key and had been out to pick out some extra essentials. At least she hoped he had and that he hadn’t found and violated her own razor in the bathroom; it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“I see you scrubbed up. Please tell me you managed to find my key and that I don’t have to throw my razor away.”

“Relax. You really think I’d try that again? Besides, I’m pretty sure I’d be the one drawing the short straw if I had to put your razor anywhere near my face, I know where it’s been.” Murphy shot her a lewd grin and she playfully jabbed him in the ribs before she could stop herself. He grimaced but when she looked like she was about to apologise he just raised his hand and waved it away in a gesture that said _don’t make this weird_. 

Instead, Raven huffed out a laugh. “Well, that’s what you get for imagining where I’ve had my razor, dumbass. Now are you going to tell me why you’re hiding in the doorway to my kitchen in your pyjamas or do I need to barge my way in to find out?”

“By all means, Reyes.” Murphy pushed the door open fully and held a hand out, dramatically bowing his head. Raven rolled her eyes and tried not to inhale the comforting, familiar smell of his damp hair as she breezed past. Luckily, it was quickly succeeded by a more enticing aroma.

“Oh my god, Murphy, are you cooking?” Raven ducked her head to peer through the glass in the oven but he shooed her away as she reached to tug open the door. She begrudgingly stepped away, bemused. 

Murphy slipped on the oven gloves folded on the countertop and wafted away the backdraft from the oven as he bent down to retrieve a steaming dish from the middle shelf. When he set it down on the trivet, Raven was pretty sure she might start drooling as she squeezed in closer to get a good whiff. The cheese on top was bubbling and golden and she was ready to devour it in an instant. “Fuck, that smells delicious, Murphy.”

Rubbing at his neck, Murphy laughed nervously and, if she didn’t know any better, Raven would think he was blushing, but she’s pretty sure it was just the heat from the oven that gave him that rosy glow. “I’d hardly call it cooking; it’s just a pasta bake.”

“Well that sounds more technical than my frozen pizzas and ready meals. I never do any proper cooking.”

“You don’t say.” Murphy mumbled with a half grin. Raven straightened up and crossed her arms expectantly. Murphy held up his hands. “I’m just saying - there’s not a lot to work with, Reyes. Do you even own a colander? I had to drain the pasta with a saucepan lid like a caveman. And don’t even get me started on what I found in those cupboards. It’s bad enough the fridge is empty but you do realise things have a use by date for a reason, right?”

Raven raised her eyebrows in protest and placed an indignant hand on her hip. “Tins never go out of date and that’s a fact. And when the world ends and it’s just the canned beans and the cockroaches that remain, I’ll make sure you rue the day you ever mocked my cupboards John Murphy.” 

The playful sniping drew a laugh from Murphy and she couldn’t help but return it. It was infectious somehow and she had to admit, despite her reservations, it made a nice change to come home to a proper cooked meal rather than an empty flat. She was still squeezed up the counter next to him and as their laughter bubbled away she suddenly felt as though the galley kitchen had shrunk, the latent heat from the oven and the warmth of his body next to hers allowing a sense of claustrophobia to sneak in. She pushed away from the side slowly and mumbled something about needing to get out of her work clothes. On her way, she noticed his old boots still nestled on the newspaper, though admittedly they were much cleaner than the night before.

“Really?” Raven pulled a face. “You couldn’t pick up a new pair of shoes?”

Murphy refused to rise to it, turning round and leaning casually up against the sideboard. “Nope. No way am I wasting the last of my money on some shitty, mass-produced shoes that are going to fall apart the minute it starts raining. There’s nothing wrong with these. They clean up just as good as me.” He flashed her a cheeky smile and she shook her head at him. “So why don’t you just go and get changed and I’ll dish up in here.”

* * *

While he waited for Raven to change, Murphy dished up the pasta bake and set it down on the coffee table in the living room before flicking on the telly. He had just started to tuck in when he heard her emerge from the bedroom. She had abandoned her brace and now manhandled her left leg in order to settle more comfortably on the sofa. 

Murphy noted the soft pair of grey joggers and oversized sweatshirt she had changed into with a smirk. “Feeling a bit chilly tonight?” The amusement in his voice was apparent.

“What?” Raven grumbled through a mouthful of pasta. 

“Or do you only dress up on Mondays? You know, that really traditional day of the week when people glam up for an early night in sleeping by themselves?” Murphy’s eyes were wicked and she could practically hear him sniggering into his bowl. Raven swallowed her pasta and turned to fix him with a steely glare. He looked up at her and shovelled a heaped spoon of cheesy penne into his mouth and added: “Just asking for a friend.”

“You’re such a creep.” Raven scolded, her neck colouring with realisation. “Have you been sifting through my dirty underwear as well?” 

Murphy huffed out a suggestive laugh. “I don’t know how dirty your underwear is, Reyes, but if your racy lingerie is anything to go by I’m sure they’d be a treat.” 

Raven felt the tug of a sarcastic smile on her lips; she knew he was playing her up and damnit if she didn’t fall for it every time. “What? Were you hoping for a free show, Murphy?”

He barked out a laugh at that. “Well, you got a pretty decent view yesterday as I recall. Seems only fair to return the favour.” 

“I always make for decent viewing.” Raven retorted with a smug grin. 

Murphy snorted and decided it was about time to concede defeat before he fed her ego even further. “Your self-assurance knows no bounds.” He scraped up the last of his sauce. “Besides, it’s not my fault. Did you really think I wouldn’t see them? Mocking me on the top of the laundry basket. It’s shameful really, taunting a deprived man like that. I’m only human after all.” 

“I’d argue you’re 90% pest, Murphy. And I didn’t realise cockroaches had any kind of emotional need.” 

Murphy clutched his chest in mock pain. “Reyes, you wound me.” 

“And besides...” Raven chewed thoughtfully. Murphy felt as though she was mulling over whether or not to say whatever was waiting to burst forward and he steeled himself for whatever was about to fall out of her mouth next. She continued in a careful tone. “Any deprivation on your part is entirely self inflicted.” 

Murphy placed his bowl back on the coffee table and considered this. It stung a bit, but then most truths did. In the end he found he couldn’t disagree. “I suppose you’re right.” 

Raven smirked. “I’m always right.” 

It seemed as though the conversation was over. Murphy flicked idly through the channels while Raven finished her dinner, the silence only broken by the clash of their bowls as Raven stacked her own on top of his. She wiggled further back into the cushion and he settled on a rerun of some lousy drama.

“What happened?” She asked quietly.

Murphy was tempted to ignore it. Pretend he hadn’t heard her over the telly. But he could feel her watching him and she knew him well enough to read into his stiff body language. Maybe he could try for evasion. “I think she just murdered her boyfriend.” 

He could feel the way her eyes were boring into his skull and knew he wasn’t getting away with it that easy. If past experience was anything to go by, she wouldn’t push him again for an answer. But it didn’t matter. His lack of response said it all. It had been painful and it was his fault. It was fitting, he supposed. Who was he kidding, thinking he had a shot at happiness after everything he’d put her through. Murphy opened his mouth to change the subject but Raven beat him to it.

“Probably deserved it.” Raven had turned to stare blankly at the screen. Murphy waited to see where this was going. 

“He cheated on me, you know. Finn. After all the chasing and pestering and effort. He’d been fucking her for months. I should have known. He never wanted me round, always wanted to meet out or at Sinclair’s flat. Naive bitch, right?” 

Murphy gritted his teeth. Finn had always irritated him. At the time he could never put his finger on why but looking back he supposed it was blatantly obvious to anyone looking in. He made him jealous. The ease with which he admitted his affections. The way he had so much more to offer: family, comfort, stability. Raven had always brushed off his advances and kept him at arm's length, preferring to value their friendship over any potential for romance. But they had always been close and Murphy had known that going in. Maybe it was inevitable that she would end up with Finn. Still, it angered him that he’d taken his fill and then carelessly discarded her hard won affections. 

“Funny, though, how things work out. We wouldn’t be sitting here now if he hadn’t screwed me over.” 

Murphy chanced a look at her. “How so?”

Raven snorted obnoxiously. “You mean they didn’t tell you?” Murphy furrowed his brows. “That’s how I met her. Clarke? I’ve got to hand it to her, it was a heck of a first impression. There’s just something about making eye contact with your boyfriend's mistress while he’s balls deep in her cunt.”

He knew she was going for the shock factor but at her last statement Murphy damn near choked on his own tongue. Raven pursed her lips in a terse grin when he found his voice again. “And just how do you come back from that exactly?” 

“Long story short, we both realised he’d been using us and at the time I wasn’t really in a position to turn down the prospect of new friends. I never should have given in to him but I’d been feeling so alone after-” Murphy squirmed uncomfortably and wasn’t sure whether he felt more or less ashamed when her words petered out with a shake of her head. “It felt like he was all I had left. And then I _really_ had nothing, except this neurotic blonde and her aggressively sympathetic band of friends and I figured, yeh, maybe I need this. Something for me, but something removed from myself. Something that I want but can live without. Something that, when it all goes to shit, isn’t going to ruin my life again.” 

“So yeh…” Raven broke the awkward silence and shuffled to pick up the bowls from the coffee table. “Without all the drama I would never have met Clarke and without Clarke I wouldn’t have met Bellamy or Jasper and you would probably still be lying face down in the mud.”

Murphy reached out as Raven moved to take the bowls into the kitchen and signalled for her to sit back down. The air felt too thick in the aftermath of her revelation and Murphy needed a moment to process. When he returned from the kitchen with a couple glasses of water, Raven had changed the channel and was absently rubbing at her knee. Murphy took a swig of the cold water and wiped the condensation from his hands onto his bottoms. So she hadn’t badgered him to bare his soul, but she’d gone one better and laid her own down for him to ogle at. What had he said earlier about returning the favour? He had to give it to her, she knew how to press his buttons. He fiddled with the hem of his pyjama top and let out a measured breath through his nose. 

“I thought I loved her.” He mumbled. 

For a while he thought he might just leave it there, the rest of the words seemed to be lodged somewhere in his throat and no matter how he swallowed he just couldn’t seem to clear them. They burned like acid and Murphy thought it was a wonder that they hadn’t seeped through his skin and scorched a track down his chest. Raven didn’t seem to mind, though. She quietly sipped at her water and pretended to watch the anticlimactic chase scene playing out on the screen. Murphy tried again.

“I thought I loved her. Just for a little while.” He traced the pattern on his tartan bottoms anxiously. “Everything happened so quickly, really. She was this wild, untamed thing and it made me feel alive again. Just for a little while there was something other than the drink that made me feel like my head was buzzing and my ears were ringing. I got so swept up in her, this feeling that maybe there was something more... I dunno.” 

Murphy hesitated and clenched his jaw a little tighter. “I dropped everything for her, dumped my rental to move in with her-”

“You loved that flat.” Raven interjected lazily, almost to herself. Murphy just nodded, his eyes clouded with memories.

“I pinned everything on her. It wasn’t fair. I was desperate, insecure. I was out of control. I turned up drunk at the restaurant a few times and when I picked a fight with the duty manager they laid me off. Could have been worse I suppose, he didn’t press charges.” Raven was watching him more closely now and Murphy pulled his lips into a wry smile. “It didn’t last long after that. She got fed up and kicked me out. Can’t say I blame her.”

They sat in silence. Raven watched him surreptitiously but he was caught up in his own thoughts. When he carried on his voice seemed independent of his body somehow and Murphy wasn’t sure which ones tumbled out and which ones he kept to himself. 

“It wasn’t what I thought it was, y’know? I thought I loved her, but in the end… I don’t think that’s what love is supposed to be. All I did was hurt her with my selfish need, the way I…” 

_The way I hurt you_ … 

“Hey,” Raven stretched out her good leg and nudged his thigh lightly with her toe. He looked up at her sceptically. “I don’t think you’re so selfish, Murphy.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve made some horrendously questionable decisions that were absolutely for your own goddamn gain. But... I think you’ve been ill. And I think you’ve been ill for a long time now. And maybe it’s time to start doing something about that.”

Murphy wasn’t so sure but when Raven sent him a small, sad smile he pressed his lips together in a thin imitation to appease her. Her toes were still pushed up against his thigh and he patted her foot in a manner that he hoped conveyed some level of gratitude for her words, even if he knew underneath it all it was probably the biggest white lie she’d ever told. The skin was cold to the touch and so when she didn’t recoil in horror, Murphy left his hand there. A reminder of the fact that it had been a long time since someone had shown him this level of compassion and that he, too, had become more and more withdrawn in himself as he spiralled out of control. 

Raven settled back a bit more on the sofa and he attempted to make small talk out of some alien desire to be polite. He listened carefully as she chattered on about how she was hoping to finish her degree in a few months and that she managed to secure a position at some prestigious engineering company during her year out in industry last summer. She was happy to fill the void and carried on about something infinitely more technical and the words became more of a low thrum as he lost track of the conversation. He had no idea what she was talking about if truth be told, but he smiled along anyway because she was animated and excited and the fierceness in her eyes reminded him of a long ago contentment he had since given up trying to recreate. 

Murphy subconsciously rubbed his thumb in small circles along her cool foot and allowed his mind to wander back to those evenings. Nights curled up in front of the telly. Waking up at 3am to her prone form on the settee and carrying her to bed before her on-call shift the next morning. The mornings that he cooked her breakfast when they passed like ships in the night and then crashing in Sinclair’s flat all day til she came home again. Those nights when he still waited in the pouring rain for her to finish up in the shop and the way they would sneak up the back stairs to dry off and warm up. It was true, what Raven had said earlier. He had loved his flat. But it was those nights spent playing house above Sinclair’s shop that had given him his first taste of freedom and ignited the hope that one day, just maybe, he would find his way out of the darkness.

* * *

_Murphy can hear the screaming before he even gets to the double doors at the front of the complex. All the other windows are in darkness, but on the first floor he can see the caricature shadows playing out in typical Friday night fashion. There’s no way she’s stayed for this but he slinks around the side and throws a few stones up at her dim window anyway, just in case. There’s no response and the fighting only gets louder, the rapid lilt and list of her mother’s curses carrying across the empty courtyard are silenced, only momentarily, by the sure sting of palm against cheek, the crack reverberating across the empty car parking spaces which promptly ring once again with harsh words and curses in a language he’s not sure he’ll ever quite understand._

_Right now there’s only one place she will be and he finds himself drawn on instinct through the familiar back roads and alleys until he’s on the home straight down into Polis. It had been a temporary solution. Once she started applying to universities, she’d been a bit more open with Sinclair about the realities of home life and why she couldn't wait to get away. In his honest opinion, Murphy thinks that Sinclair had likely always had his suspicions. She’d opened up to him and in return, for the time being, he had offered her the use of the empty flat above his shop as refuge on the nights that her mother brought home undesirables and more often than not in the last few months he’d ended up outside the backdoor to the shop, waiting to be let up the dingey staircase and into the relative safety of Sinclair’s forgotten rental._

_He presses the buzzer a couple of times and grins at the click as she lets him in. He’s got nothing with him but the clothes that he’s standing in, but the news that he has is so much more exciting that he can’t bring himself to care if he has to spend another night in his jeans, just so long as he can tell her what he’s been bursting to let out since he left the halfway house just a couple of hours ago. He fingers the key in his back pocket as he takes the stairs two at a time and he pauses for only a moment when he reaches the door at the top of the landing as he considers whether he’ll really have the gall to ask her._

_His thoughts are interrupted though as Raven wrenches the door open from the other side and pulls him in. Murphy takes in the fading red rings around her eyes and wonders how long she’s been holed up in here but the thoughts slip away as she clings onto him. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and presses her closer in an attempt to still the quiet shudders as she buries her wet face into his neck. It’s probably no more than a minute but Murphy feels as though they stand there for hours, resting his chin on top of her head and rocking her gently side to side as she calms down again. She pulls away and wipes haphazardly at her eyes with a wet smile._

_“Guess the jokes on me, right? Should be used to the disappointment by now.” She looks at her feet and rubs her neck in embarrassment. “I dunno why I thought tonight would be any different. I was just hoping, I guess.”_

_Murphy nods and starts to meander his way into the kitchen. Maybe he can wait a little bit to tell her his news. It seems inconsiderate to spring it now._

_“You eaten?” She asks him as she follows him through. Murphy shakes his head. It’s a good two hour walk from her mom’s into Polis and he’s starving. “I ordered pizza earlier. There’s a few slices leftover if you want.”_

_Murphy gratefully snags the leftovers from out the fridge and throws himself down casually in front of the telly before devouring the first slice of pepperoni. Raven laughs at his lack of manners and sets a cold can of coke down on the nest of tables beside him. She cracks her own open with a vicious hiss and quickly sucks the aggressive fizz that explodes out of the ring._

_“Shit! Be careful - I must have shook them.” Murphy sniggers around another mouthful of pizza and they settle into a comfortable silence squeezed up on Sinclair’s tiny sofa._

_The telly blares away but he spends more time sneaking looks at Raven than he does watching the screen and his chest clenches tightly at the sight. She looks more tired than he’s seen her in a long time and despite her earlier laughter she seems utterly miserable. She drains the last dregs in her can and sets it down with a hollow clang._

_“You wanna watch another episode?” He asks. Raven rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms and sits up to stretch._

_“I think I just want to go to bed to be honest. My head is pounding and my eyes feel like pissholes in the snow.”_

_“Nah,” Murphy drawls with a sharp grin. “If anything I’d say it’s an improvement.” He cries out in mock outrage as she launches a cushion at him._

_Raven stands up and holds out a hand. “Come on,” she yawns. “Let’s just lie in the dark for a bit.” Murphy peers up at her warily but she just rolls her eyes at him and grabs him by the wrist._

_She wasn’t kidding about the darkness. Raven lets go of him as she shuts the bedroom door and all at once he feels as though he is blind. He can hear her rummaging around in a drawer somewhere and even though he shuffles carefully towards where he thinks the bed is he still lets out a string of colourful curses when he stubs his toe on the bedside unit. He can hear Raven laughing as he sits on the edge of her bed and rubs the pain out. The springs creak with the dip of the bed as he shuffles back to lie on top of the covers. He’s been in here more times that he can count on his fingers: when he’s carried her to bed or made her coffee in the mornings when she overslept. But not in the dark like this, not together, and he’d never stayed. He always slept out on the sofa. With good reason too, he thinks. He’s not sure what she’s doing but as he waits for her to sit down next to him he can feel his heart hammering its way up his throat._

_His other senses are heightened in the darkness and when he hears a faint rustling only feet away he swallows down the rising panic in his chest as he realises she must be getting changed for bed, safe in the knowledge he can’t see a thing. He hears the soft thump of her jeans hitting the floor and squeezes his eyes shut regardless of the pitch black room and only opens them again when he feels her lift the covers to scoot across the double bed. She fidgets for a few seconds to get comfortable and Murphy is painfully aware of just how close she is. Not that they’re never this close but somehow this time it’s different. She must be lying on her side to face him now because suddenly her breath is hot against his neck and cheek. He shudders slightly and she must mistake it for a chill because she puts a hand out to feel for him and laughs when he jumps at the touch._

_“If you’re cold get under the covers, idiot.”_

_Murphy forces out a laugh and mumbles something about just being surprised and not expecting her to be so close. She lets it go and they lie in silence for a while, Murphy on his back and Raven facing him, her hand still resting lightly on his arm._

_“What are you thinking about?” She whispers._

_Murphy weighs up just how awful the fallout would be if he told her the truth and instead opts for a safer but no less candid concern he’s been mulling over for the last few weeks. “Just how different next year is going to be.” The sheets rustle as she shifts again._

_“How so?”_

_“Well, you’ll be off crushing it at university come October and I’ve got my apprenticeship at the restaurant starting up in a few months. And I know there’s no way you’re giving up your car now you can finally drive everywhere you want to go which means you’re probably going to keep a hand in downstairs. What if we don’t have time for each other anymore? You know how much I hate people. I’m not sure there’s anyone else out there who can put up with me the way you do. And to be honest? I have zero inclination to find out.”_

_Raven doesn’t respond and without being able to see her face it’s difficult to gage whether he’s said the wrong thing. He gives in and turns his head to stare at where he thinks her eyes should be and waits for his own to become accustomed to the lack of light._

_“Well,” she starts. “I am definitely not giving up the car, that’s for sure. And I know how much you wanted that apprenticeship even if you pretended you couldn’t give a shit. Don’t think I didn’t notice. And besides, I’ll always have time for you. You’re my best friend, Murphy. If we haven’t got each other then what have we got?” He smiles at her simple statements. “And if you’re still worried, well then maybe I can help with at least one of those things.”_

_Murphy rolls over fully so that they are facing each other, his awkwardness almost forgotten. “Oh? Is that so? Do continue.”_

_“Well, there’s no way I can give up my car and still commute to study and after tonight I am never going back to my moms. So there was really only one thing for me to do that made any sense whatsoever in my mind.” She pauses and his head is suddenly reeling with the fear that she’s done something stupid like dropped out of uni and that’s not what he meant or wanted at all… “Relax.” She continues. “I can hear your little brain cells dying over here. I’ve deferred my place. Just for a year, so I can get myself sorted. I mean it - I’m never going back there.”_

_Murphy lets out a sigh of relief and wonders where she’ll stay. There’s no doubt that Sinclair would let her live above the shop permanently but a voice in the back of his head teases him with the idea that maybe if he asked her she wouldn’t say no after all. He pushes it back down though and asks an entirely different question. One he’s been fretting over for a few years. It feels safe in the dark. Murphy thinks he might just be able to make out the brightness of Raven’s eyes now but it’s not enough to make him put his guard back up._

_“Do you think we’ll ever escape it?” He whispers. “Sometimes, I think it’s inevitable y’know. That it doesn’t matter what I do or where I go, that it’s just going to be a part of me I’m never going to be able to shake. I think it’s the only thing I’ve ever really been frightened of. That it’s only a matter of time before I fall into the same hole she did and that no matter how much I dig there’ll be no getting back out again.”_

_He didn’t think it was possible but Raven scoots even closer and she fumbles a hand across the duvet to clumsily take his own. “That’s never going to happen.” She is resolute in her conviction. “And you know how I know? Because you know what it does to people. Not just to you but the people you love. And that fear? That’s going to drive you to make sure you never put anyone through what we’ve been through. And if that’s not enough? Well, then. I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.”_

_Even though he can’t see it, he knows she’s smiling. He doesn’t believe a word she’s saying but when she entwines her fingers with his own and squeezes, his brain stops arguing and he gives in and lets her comfort him._

_They talk for what feels like hours about their hopes and dreams for the future. The darkness has made them both brave and he likes the weightless feeling it gives him to lay it all down in front of her. She hasn’t let go of his hand yet and he strokes his thumb idly across the back of her hand as she gushes about the facilities she’ll get to work in next year. He closes his eyes and lets her giddy whispers wash over him and thinks that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be._

_The conversation becomes intermittent and he thinks he might have nodded off once or twice. Raven’s breathing seems slower now and she hasn’t said anything for a while. He tilts his wrist to look at the digital display on his watch and notices that it's nearly one in the morning. He slips his free hand into his back pocket and pulls out the warm key._

_“Rey?” He whispers. “Hey Reyes, you still awake?” Raven makes a disgruntled noise that draws a quiet snuff of laughter from Murphy. He releases her hand with a twinge of regret and presses the key firmly into her palm before closing her fingers into a fist, covering it firmly with his own. It isn’t much, but it’s all he has. “Happy birthday, Rey. Eighteen years awesome.”_

_“Thanks, loser.” Raven grumbles, her voice still heavy with sleep. It takes her a moment to realise there’s something in her hand but when she does she sits bolt upright. Murphy’s not sure whether to laugh or panic but he sits up with his back against the headboard just in case. “Murphy, what is this?”_

_“It’s a key, genius. Are you sure they got your test scores right?” He’s cut off by a light jab to the chest._

_“I can tell it’s a key, Murphy. What’s it for?”_

_As expected, he chickens out. “It’s a spare. For my new flat.” He lets the news sink in. “They finally accepted my rental agreement. I don’t have to go back to the halfway house. Move in on Monday.”_

_He’s not sure what he was expecting but he isn’t prepared for the squeal that Raven emits and is slightly aghast when she practically throws herself into his lap to squeeze the life out of him. They’re both laughing and he clasps her round the waist in an effort to stop her jiggling around before he embarrasses himself._

_“Murphy, I’m so happy for you! This is the best news!” Raven plants a sloppy kiss on his forehead and gives his shoulders a shake. “I can’t wait to see it.”_

_“Well don’t get too excited. It’s a bit of a dive. But, it’s all mine.” He smiles at the thought. “And besides, I figure I’ve leeched off you here enough; it’s about time I returned the favour. Not to mention the fact that I am one hundred percent going to lock myself out at some point next week so I need someone reliable to be able to let me back in.”_

_Raven slithers back onto the bed and ensconces herself back under the duvet, rabbiting on about painting and furnishing and Murphy allows himself to slide back down the headboard._

_“Don’t be a moron, Murphy. Just get in the bed. You can’t sleep like that.” She pokes his knee through his jeans and yawns. “I promise not to laugh at your skinny little legs.” Murphy hesitates and she huffs out a loud sigh. She leans over and places the key on her night stand and settles back down. “Whatever, weirdo. Don’t moan when you're tired and grumpy in the morning.”_

_Murphy listens to the sound of her breathing and decides that he really could do with a decent night's sleep. He sits up on the side of the bed and pulls off his shirt before unbuttoning his jeans. He stops and considers the ramifications of spending the night curled up in his boxers in Raven’s bed and the inevitable mortification of waking up hard and needy._

_“Don’t make it weird.” She grumbles and it’s all he needs to sway him. He drops his jeans in an unceremonious heap on the floor and wriggles under the duvet with his back to her. He stiffens at the feel of her hand at his back. “Night, Murphy.”_

_“Night, Rey.” He breathes and, for once, he lets himself drift off into a dreamless sleep._

_When he wakes in the morning, it takes a moment to register where he is. The light is just starting to creep in through the curtains and his face is buried deep in Raven’s fragrant, dark locks. He allows himself a few seconds to compose himself and drinks in the intoxicating aroma once more before he takes stock of his other limbs. The arm underneath his head has all but gone to sleep but his other hand is curled dangerously under her vest across her toned stomach and her feet are clasped firmly between his legs. He knows he needs to move before she wakes up to his insistent erection pressed up against her cheeks and so he peels himself away from her as quietly as he can muster. He perches at the edge of the bed and grimaces at the damp, straining bulge in his boxers and quickly tucks himself into his jeans before sneaking out to the kitchen to make coffee._

_When he returns with two steaming mugs, Murphy grins at the way she has rolled over into his pillow and gently sets the mugs down on the bedside table. He gives her shoulder a quick shake and chirps obnoxiously: “Rise and shine, Reyes. You’re gonna be late.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late - work has been very chaotic in the wake of new local restrictions and rising case numbers in the local community. Hope you enjoyed this latest update. Stay safe and look after each other out there!


	7. Chapter 7

“Sit on the damn stool, Murphy.”

“There is absolutely no way I am letting you anywhere near me with that thing.”

“You look like a tramp. My neighbours think I’ve got a squatter.”

“Fuck off do they. It’s not happening, Reyes.” 

“They do, too. Little old Mrs Edwards across the hall told me she nearly called the police yesterday.”

“Why the hell would she even do that?” 

“Because you look like you’ve been living in a rat’s nest for the last three months, Murphy. Please, for the love of God, just let me get rid of it.”

“Maybe I like it.” Murphy smirked and ran his hands through his hair, curling it round the back of his ears in that insufferable way he knew she hated. 

Raven narrowed her eyes dangerously and stepped forward slightly. “You sit on the stool, John Murphy, or so help me I will pin you down and buzz it all over.”

“Well, that all sounds rather exciting.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at her brazenly. “But where’s the challenge in that, Reyes? Since you seem to be attached firmly to the wall.” Murphy lifted his chin to indicate where the clippers were plugged in at the mains. 

He thought he had her. She could tell from the arrogant gleam in his eye and it took all her worth not to give it away. Forcing out a forlorn sigh, she considered the clippers in her hand. She turned them over and pulled the jack out of the bottom with a pout, waving them noncommittally as she advanced on him, putting herself between him and the doorway. “Guess you got me, Murphy.” 

She was pushing her luck and she knew it, but when she came to a stop just a foot away from his face she knew she’d got the upper hand. He was totally smug but there was nowhere for him to go now. 

“Just admit it, Rey. You were never going to win this one.” From where he was pushed up against the counter, Murphy stared down at her with a triumphant grin.

Raven crossed her arms slightly and tapped her chin thoughtfully with the clippers, letting out a small, mirthless laugh. “Oh, Murphy,” she purred. “You know I can’t do that.” Leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear, she waved the clippers dangerously under his nose. “Because I _always_ win.” 

The clippers buzzed to life aggressively in the quiet kitchen, mere millimetres from Murphy’s sharp nose and Raven struggled to hold back a laugh at the way his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his mouth bobbed open for a few seconds before he pressed his lips back together in bitter defeat. 

“They’re portable.” He ground out, narrowing his eyes with a pout.

“They’re portable.” Raven smirked back. “So why don’t you take a seat and let me work my magic?”

Murphy chewed his lip as he considered his options. His eyes flicked over the door, calculating the possibility for escape, and eventually decided he’d got no chance. Raven backed up and flicked the clippers off.

“Fine.” He growled, throwing himself petulantly down on the stool. “But I swear to God, Raven, if you give me a buzz cut I will shave your fucking eyebrows off while you sleep.”

“Sounds like a fair deal.” She replied with a chuckle and then added: “Have some faith Murphy.” He turned to give her a withering stare but she just shot back a toothy smile and said “I’m Raven fucking Reyes.” 

“Yeh, the mechanic. Not the freaking hairdresser.” 

Raven rolled her eyes and turned his head back round to face the front. “Here,” she said. “Grab hold of this.” Murphy dutifully grasped the corners of the towel she placed around his tense shoulders. He still wasn’t convinced. “Relax,” she sighed, flicking on the clippers. “I used to do Finn’s all the time.”

Murphy’s knuckles grew white as he clutched the towel with an ever increasing grip. “I know you think that makes it better, but it really, _really_ doesn’t. Shit, I’m gonna look like such a dweeb.”

“You will if you don’t shut up and stop talking smack about my skills.” Raven felt him flinch as she started around the nape of his neck. “Or if you act like an asshat and move like that every time I touch you. Stay still.” 

To his credit, Murphy did not move again. Though he did watch her intently with an aggressive side eye as she moved around him, her satisfaction evident in the wide grin plastered on her face as each new lock of his dark hair curled to the floor or caught stubbornly on her old towel. Every so often she stopped and ran her comb through what was left of his hair and sometimes he could hear the sharp snap of the guard as she changed it. It felt far too breezy and cold round the back for his liking and he was already calculating how best to deprive her of both eyebrows before she could wake up and strangle him. Raven flicked off the clippers at the wall and paced a thoughtful circle around him, as though she were inspecting one of her machines rather than what he imagined was left of his dignity. She cocked her head and then with a nod turned to rifle through one of the cutlery drawers. 

“Are you kidding me, Reyes?” He moaned. “What are you-” 

Raven spun back around with a triumphant grin and playfully snapped a small, sharp pair of scissors at him. “Knew they were in there somewhere.”

“I take it back. You can buzz cut it.” 

“Just close your eyes, Murphy, and by the time you open them again you’ll be the prettiest little cockroach under the kitchen sink.” 

She returned his murderous glare until he conceded and screwed up his eyes. Raven got to work on the longer lengths she’d left at the top, diligently sectioning his hair and snipping away in her own methodical manner. As she carefully lifted his chin to finish off the front, she couldn’t help but smile to see that his face had relaxed somewhere between trying to telepathically boil her eyeballs and realising he was no match for her pointy scissors. The short, blunt clippings scattered across his angular features and she had to bite her lip when he wriggled his nose as a few clearly started to irritate him. 

When she thought she was about done, Raven combed through his hair to see if she’d missed anything. Pleased with her handiwork, she ran her fingers through the top layers and ruffled them up a bit so they weren’t plastered so starkly against his head. Murphy’s jaw twitched and Raven couldn’t help but run her fingers along his scalp again, just to see if she was imagining things. She wasn’t sure what it meant when she realised she wasn’t.

Raven coaxed the corners of the towel out of Murphy’s rigid fist and brushed the hairs from his face with gentle strokes. Her stomach rolled at the feeling of deja vu that rippled through her with the action and she shivered a little at the muscle memory. When he opened his eyes and gazed back up at her, Raven cleared her throat and retreated towards the far counter. 

“All done.” She said brightly. 

Murphy eyed her warily and reached up to pat his ears. “Well, at least I still have all my vital parts.”

“That can be rearranged.” Raven retorted with annoyance. “Just go and have a look.” 

Murphy carefully balled up the now fuzzy towel and dropped it on the stool as he stalked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. The image that greeted him in the mirror, however, was entirely unexpected. Murphy snorted in disbelief as he ran his hands over his newly buzzed back and sides and inspected the longer, tousled mop on top. It suited him, chipping away at his boyishness and adding a new level of maturity to his severe features. “Damnit, Reyes.” He mumbled to himself: he was never going to hear the end of this. 

“Told you I was awesome at this.” 

Murphy started at the unexpected interruption. Raven was leaning smugly up the doorframe. 

“Yeh, well… Forgive me for forgetting that that convincingly human exterior is hiding all kinds of bionic wizardry on the inside.” Raven laughed as he made a vague, swirling gesture at her with his hand. “Now get out so I can wash all these itchy little hairs off me. It’s making my skin crawl.”

“Sure.” Raven nodded with a smile. “Just don’t put all your hairy clothes in the basket. I don’t want that all over my underwear. If you chuck them out into the hall I’ll sling them in the machine ready to go on with the towel.” 

After she had disappeared and Murphy could hear her hoovering up his mess in the kitchen, he decided that it was finally safe to dump his clothes outside the bathroom door without being spotted. He relished that fresh trim satisfaction as he lathered the shampoo into his hair and tried to stamp down on the domesticity of it all building in his gut. 

When she’d remembered that he’d got no way of actually being contacted by the outside world, Raven had left him her laptop so he could log into his emails and start applying for jobs. Over the course of the last two days, Murphy had filled in thirteen applications, for everything from shelf stacker and warehouse operative to busboy and dish-washer and anything in between. On top of that, he’d spent Thursday afternoon spamming every single local business he could find on Google Maps with his CV. Even so, he had still been a little stunned by the high-pitched ding that interrupted their dinner that evening: a hurried and apologetic email from a little independent coffee shop on the high street that had just about given up trying to fill a last minute position which had fallen through before their grand opening on Saturday. Raven had practically shat her pants when he jumped up with a victorious yell and nearly covered the two of them with the entire contents of his bowl of stew, but she had forgiven him pretty quickly once she realised what all the fuss was about. _“There’s no way you can go to an interview looking like that.”_ She’d said to him when he told her they wanted him to stop in for a trial the following morning. 

And now here he was, with his clear-cut new look in his white button down shirt, attempting to knot a tie for the first time in nearly four years. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it but as he shut the bathroom door behind him, Murphy allowed himself to wonder whether maybe things were looking up after all. 

He was ripped swiftly out of his ruminations by a brash wolf whistle and Murphy felt his neck colour as he looked up to find Raven appraising him from the sofa, still sat in her pyjamas: a mug of coffee in one hand and a half eaten slice of toast in the other.

“Damn, Murphy.” She said, getting up to have a closer look. He rolled his eyes and gave her a faux twirl. She raised her eyebrows, giving him the once over. “Even I’d hire you.”

* * *

If he was honest with himself, Murphy figured they must have been pretty desperate when they offered him the job at the little coffee shop because the day had been an absolute shitfest from the get go. 

For starters, he’d arrived forty-five minutes late because the first bus had been cancelled and he had to wait for the 8.56 to arrive with no way to let them know what had happened. Then he managed to knock a tray of eighteen pristine china espresso mugs off the counter, which promptly shattered into smithereens that he spent the next twenty minutes fishing out from under every art deco bucket chair and table with what seemed like the world’s smallest dustpan and brush. When he leant on a stray shard and sliced his thumb open, Murphy thought it was a wonder he didn’t punch anyone in the face and he congratulated himself on his minimal use of expletives and the fact that he didn’t call the waitress a cunt when she asked rather condescendingly if he had hurt himself. 

By five o’clock his shirt was covered in an assortment of his own blood, espresso and waste coffee grounds and he had well and truly had enough. It was a miracle he hadn’t walked out hours ago. But despite the fact that he had only successfully managed to make one full practice round of orders, even Murphy wasn’t foolish enough to turn the offer down when the peppy little store owner handed him an apron with ‘Bean Served?’ embroidered jauntily across the front. 

“It’ll be mainly weekend shifts to start with.” She informed him as she locked down the shutters for the night. “But if we kick off alright I might be able to offer you some mornings if you’re up for it?”

“I’ll take anything you’ve got.” He drawled, both nauseated by the sheer level of optimism she exuded and also trying desperately to quash his own ridiculous excitement at landing the kind of part-time, casual job a sixteen year old girl could have done, admittedly, hands down better than he had managed today. 

She flashed him a sweet smile and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. He supposed things could be worse. “Me and Katie are going to go for a couple of drinks to celebrate, now that we’re finally ready to open tomorrow.” She jerked a thumb at the haughty waitress behind her. “Wanna come with?”

She was still smiling at him like they had somehow become friends over the course of the last seven hours and Murphy suddenly felt an uncharacteristic pang of guilt that he couldn’t remember what her name was. He fidgeted with the apron for a moment. “Oh, erm…”

“Come on, I’ll buy the first round.” She pushed.

Murphy felt like he’d swallowed a boulder as the heavy, gnawing pit opened up in his stomach and he stumbled over his words as he tried to find a convincing reason not to join them. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly-”

“Nonsense.” She interjected, assuming he was about to decline her offer to pay. “My treat. We’d have been stuffed for tomorrow’s service if you didn’t show up today. Come on.”

Murphy babbled something incoherently about having to catch the last bus as she steered him firmly down the high street towards a modern looking bar that sold expensive craft beers by the bottle and whose reclaimed wooden furniture looked just as distressed as he did. 

“Problem solved.” She announced, pushing him through the open doorway. “Number 6 stops right outside. Time for a quickie with your new boss-lady.” She giggled, coquettish.

Murphy squirmed as the bartender set down three bottles of beer in front of them. His had fizzed slightly and the froth was just bubbling over the top, a lone dribble snaking down the neck and carving a path through the condensation. He could already smell the fruity notes and he pinned his hands discretely between his knees as he felt the urgent itching in his fingertips to reach out and drain the bottle. He tried to focus on the positives though: if it was entirely possible, Katie looked even more pissed than he did that he was here. 

“So, Stella tells me you used to be a chef de partie at that swanky restaurant up in Polis.” 

_Ah yes_ , Murphy thought, _Stella_. He nodded distractedly, eyes flicking up to check the time behind the bar. When his knees loosened and began to dither nervously on the footrest of his stool, Murphy’s fingers drifted idly towards his bottle on the bar and he picked absently at the soggy label.

“What happened?” Katie swilled the dregs in her bottle, her voice snakish. 

Stella shot her a warning look that said she was being rude but she didn’t reprimand her, clearly also interested to know why he had been so desperate to take what seemed like a huge step down for their crappy part-time role. Murphy chewed on his lip and ran his tongue over his teeth before his resolve crumbled and he snatched up the bottle from the counter. 

“We had a difference in opinions.” He retorted, knocking back the beer in four long pulls and setting it down with a muted thump on the damp barmat. “And I was overruled.”

Murphy pushed his barstool back with a scrape and gathered up his apron. Stella looked helplessly at him as though she had personally offended him, clearly terrified that he would change his mind and not bother showing up in the morning, so he gave it his best effort to shoot her a friendly smile, but it felt stiff and forced. He patted her lightly on the arm as his bus pulled up outside the glass frontage. “Thanks for the beer. And for taking a chance on me. I’ll see you at 9.00.” He called as he bolted for the door. 

As he swung into an empty bench two rows from the back, Murphy let out a shaky breath and clutched onto the rail in front of him. He rested his head on his clenched fists and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to count steadily to ten with each breath. That one moment of weakness had been a big mistake. Yes, he’d managed to remove himself. But that was nothing compared to the primal urge that surged through him now, that desperate need to find more, to keep going, to feel nothing but that numb, empty oblivion at the end of a binge soaked night when he could no longer feel his face or the itching in his fingers and he was unable to form his own name much less acknowledge the burning shame that consumed his every waking moment. 

And oh god she was going to smell it on him. He’d finally done something right but it was all going to go to shit the moment he walked through that door and he could picture the sheer disappointment on her face as she realised he was still the same waste of space he’d always been. 

Murphy sat up and raked his fingers through his hair and felt a new wave of guilt wash over him. The stops raced past in a blur as he cycled through endless desperate options for how to get himself out of this mess. Before he knew what he was doing he realised he had pushed the bell two stops too early and was making his way up to the front of the bus. 

Out on the pavement, he pushed his way into the corner shop, still on autopilot, and only really stopped to think about what he was doing when he reached the till and the arsey bloke behind the counter snapped his fingers in front of his face, asking, for what was presumably the second time, what he wanted. Murphy blinked away the fog that had clouded his brain and licked his lips carefully. His eyes were drawn immediately to the bottom shelf behind the till and he drummed his fingers on the counter while he wrestled down the thirsty demons inside him. It would be so easy. Just a quarter of whiskey. He could do that. Just one. Just to prove he could stop it at that. The assistant behind the till grumbled to himself and Murphy knew it was now or never. 

“Twenty sovereign blue and a packet of vestas.” He heard himself say, slapping a ten on the counter. The cashier rang up the cigarettes and his matches but before he could ask if that was all, Murphy had snatched up his fags and was halfway out the door.

* * *

By the time he reached Raven’s apartment, Murphy had chain smoked his way through six cigarettes and felt as though his head was spinning. He felt lighter as he reached for the door, some of his earlier anxiety having ebbed away with each stub he flicked into the gutter, but it wasn’t enough to prepare him for the reception that greeted him as he kicked off his shoes at the doorway. 

For once, Raven appeared to have come home early and she jumped up from the sofa with eager anticipation as he dumped her spare key and his depleted box of cigarettes on the sideboard. Murphy was surprised to find an expectant smile plastered across her flushed face, wet hair piled messily on top of her head. The sight threw him for a moment as his brain tried to reconcile this image of her, energised and fresh out of the shower, with her usual post-work self: a turbulent vortex, leaving trails of the day's debris in her wake, just the wrong side of hangry. 

“So?” She prodded. “How did it go?” 

Murphy could pinpoint the exact moment her bizarre enthusiasm curdled and if he weren’t so het up about the events of the last hour he might have found it in himself to laugh. Raven stormed across the living room to inspect his disheveled shirt, her brow furrowed in what he could only assume was concern, laced with a hint of annoyance, and her nose wrinkled at the noxious cloud that clung to his skin and his clothes.

“What the hell happened to you?” She demanded, her eyes lingering on a suspicious bloodstain and trailing down to find his poorly bandaged thumb. 

“Rough day.” He quipped, briefly filling her in on his series of mishaps. Raven’s cheery demeanour dissipated and she no longer looked as enthused about the prospects of his interview. His lips quirked into a sly grin. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She still wants me there at 9.00 tomorrow.” 

Raven let out a shocked shriek at the news. Momentarily, she seemed to forget herself and threw her arms around his neck in a tight squeeze.

“Murphy, that’s amazing!” She cried, bouncing up and down a little with the excitement. 

Murphy’s form immediately stiffened in her awkward embrace. He had not expected such an openly affectionate display and he was suddenly very thankful for the lingering, smoky haze that he prayed was covering up the smell of beer on his breath. Turning his head away from her, Murphy took half a step backwards. Raven quickly released him, mistaking his discomposure for her having crossed some unspoken, physical line between them and so she pulled away to give him some more space. She cleared her throat and tugged nervously and self-consciously at her sweater. 

“Well, you’ve had quite the day it seems.” She nodded at him thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go and shower and I’ll order us a pizza to celebrate? Hopefully we can get those stains out before the morning.” She added, pointing vaguely at his soiled shirt. 

“Yeh, sounds like a plan.” Murphy replied quietly. “Thanks.”

“My treat.” Despite her warm smile, Murphy cringed inwardly at the phrase as he thought back to Stella and the bar. “Besides, you’ll be buying the next one, right?” Murphy huffed out a breathy laugh at that and slunk off to get showered. 

For whatever reason, Raven couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Murphy wasn’t as thrilled as she thought he’d be about the prospect of reclaiming some of his lost dignity and it threw her to say the least. As she phoned the pizza order through, she wondered whether perhaps she had upset him by being too hands on when she hugged him earlier. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys - marking schedule has been crazy these past couple of weeks and I'm absolutely beat! Hope you're still hanging in there :)
> 
> It's upsetting to think that for so many people this last season and the show as a whole is now over. There is still no news about when it might reach us here in the UK! Totally given up on E4 now who still claim they have no date for the last season (guessing this is going to be another shield scenario...) so I'm currently feeding off tiny clips and endless spoilers in my desperation. Even more terrified of the prospect that murven fic writers might soon become silent and then I'll have nothing to satisfy my fix (maybe I'll have to start making conversation with my husband again lol..!)


	8. Chapter 8

A week turned into a month but she let him stay anyway because he seemed to be trying to sort his life out. Raven wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. She’s pretty sure it was never a spoken conversation they had, but that suited her just fine since she’d sooner go to hell than admit she’d gone back on her own word and, even worse, that she’d enjoyed having him back around. 

It wasn’t the same, not by a long shot. At times, things still felt very fragile between them. In any one evening, Murphy could swing seamlessly between his sharp, quick-witted humour and his withdrawn, trance-like state any number of times. Sometimes, seemingly, for no reason at all. Often, Raven acknowledged that she had in some way been the catalyst. A spiteful remark here, a judgemental comment there. All in the heat of the moment, unintended, but just as damaging all the same. Still, they were both good at that.

But right now, as she wrestled with the innards of her Philco radio, Raven found that she just couldn’t concentrate. She cast her eyes back over her phone. Seven thirty. Murphy should have been home when she got in at six. He didn’t usually work on a Tuesday but Stella had offered him an extra morning shift which he had gratefully accepted. As he raced out the door that morning, he had garbled around a mouthful of toast something about being home by two. He’d even offered to make a lasagna for when she got home. But the apartment was in darkness when she arrived and it was clear that he hadn’t been back since he left that morning. At seven o’clock, Raven had decided to take advantage of the clear coffee table and the rare peace and quiet that she had lacked over the last few weeks, taking down her radio project from the shelf and attempting to salvage what was left of the original lead wiring, but she was getting nowhere. As the time ticked on, Raven was forced to admit defeat and she carefully pieced the outer casing of the radio back together and set it back on the shelf, clearing away her tools and newspapers with a shaky hand. 

Raven flicked the telly on and hoped that the blaring sound would drown out some of her wilder imaginings. Out of curiosity, she found herself staring at the facebook page for the coffee shop where he’d been working and her finger hovered over the mobile number listed. She paused and considered what exactly she’d say to whoever answered. It’s not like he owed her any explanation. They weren’t attached at the hip - he was just crashing on her sofa. _Get a fucking grip_ , she told herself, _he’s a grown ass man for crying out loud_. 

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it just wasn’t like him to stay out like this. What if he never came back? He’d stubbornly refused to buy himself a replacement phone despite her protests, claiming that he’d enjoyed the carefree lifestyle it afforded him without the constant badgering and pinging that came with being on the grid. She couldn’t call him to find out if he was ok and he couldn’t call her if he was in trouble. Maybe that’s what he wanted though. To be unreachable. Untouchable. 

Raven was seriously considering where the line would be drawn: at what point did Murphy’s absence stop being the prerogative of a skittish, recovering alcoholic and when did it tip over into the realms of missing persons. If she called the police, would they simply laugh off her concerns? She knew her mind was starting to run away with her but, even so, she was just about to give in to her urge to dial the number for the coffee shop when the sound of the key in the door wrenched her out of her consternation with a jolt. She dropped her phone as though she had been electrocuted and she distantly registered it bouncing under the table. 

“Hey, Reyes!” Murphy called blithely as he bustled through the door, his arms full of carrier bags. “You’ll never guess what I’ve- ow! Shit, Raven! What the hell?” 

Murphy’s grocery haul tumbled to the floor as he flung up his arms to cover his body as Raven accosted him in the doorframe. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yelled at her through his hands. 

“Where. Have. You. Been?” She demanded, her words punctuated by a feeble barrage of slaps and jabs with no real intent to harm him but he was perturbed all the same. 

“If you’d let me get a word in edgeways, you lunatic, maybe you’d find out!” Raven stilled and waited as Murphy tentatively put down his hands in surrender. “Jesus, Reyes.” He grumbled. “If that’s the kind of welcome I get I don’t know if-”

“I was worried.” She cut him off before he could finish the thought. She didn’t even want him to joke about not coming back. She wanted even less to consider the ramifications of that admission. “I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, going out of my fucking mind. You were meant to be back at two and I-”

“What?” He laughed. “You worried you’d have to feed yourself for a change?” Murphy’s good-natured mirth petered out as he took in Raven’s solemn gaze. “Wait, did you think I wasn’t coming back?” 

Raven turned her eyes to the scattered groceries. She stooped to start gathering them back up into the bags and muttered something along the lines of _‘like I’d care’_. 

Murphy placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Raven,” he started. “I’d never leave you like that.” Raven’s eyes were cold as she regarded him through a layer of cynicism. Murphy gritted his teeth and looked away briefly, embarrassment rising in his cheeks. “Not again. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.” 

They lugged the bags through to the kitchen and Raven leant warily up against the counter while Murphy scuttled around the cupboards. After a few minutes, she broke the uneasy silence between them. “So where were you then?”

Placing the last of his groceries in the fridge, Murphy turned to face her with a cautious smirk. “Polis.” He said. Raven raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms as if to say _well, this better be good_.

* * *

In all fairness to him, Murphy would genuinely have been home by two. He was just about to catch the number 6 back to Raven’s apartment when he remembered his promise to make dinner and he had a change of heart. Back when he had been working in the restaurant in Polis, there had been a smart little precinct that he liked to peruse on his way to work with a handful of independent retailers, a greengrocer, a butcher's shop and even a little bakery, that sold the most delightful fresh produce and he figured if he was going to go to the trouble of making a homemade lasagne, then he may as well do it right. 

As it happened, he only just made it with enough time to pick up the necessities for his meal that evening. Murphy was lamenting his rotten luck at not having the luxury of really taking his time to savour all the usual sensory wonders when a stocky, middle aged man bowled out of a nearby shop front and nearly pitched him into the oncoming traffic. As he stumbled to regain his balance, Murphy made to hurl a few choice words at him but, before he could have the last word, the man fired his own onslaught of abuse right back into the open doorway, which Murphy subsequently recognised as his well-loved bakery. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Murphy turned his back on the aggressor and poked his head round the shop door. The buzzer sounded as he entered and he heard a defiant voice call out from the back.

“Mac, if you’ve come back just to have another go you can bloody well-” A determined, tear-stained face appeared behind the counter, the owner of which stopped short as she realised it was not in fact Mac who had returned. “Oh. Sorry,” she said, wiping at her face. “We’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Murphy looked pointedly at the sign on the door which still dangled ‘open’ in the glass. The woman rolled her eyes at him, resigned. 

“Fine. What did you want?”

“Charming.” Murphy muttered, eyeing up the remains on the display. “Always remembered the service being significantly friendlier...”

“Look, can I help you or not?” She replied, indignantly. “Because now that my one and only baker is gone, I have a shit ton of prep to do before I get in for 5.00 tomorrow and make a hash of morning service by myself.” 

Murphy’s ears pricked at that. He stood up from where he’d been scowling at the leftover pastries. “Only baker? I always thought Lemkin had three guys on it out back?” 

The woman behind the counter narrowed her eyes at him slightly before her shoulders sagged. “Yeh, he did.” She spat out resentfully. “And then when he died last year and they didn’t get the stake in his family business they’d somehow been expecting, two of them fucked off and left. And now Mac’s gone, too. So go figure.”

“Well, who ended up with the stake then?” 

“Who do you think, dipshit?” She replied savagely, hands on her hips, looking ready to tear his head off at his response. “Look, it’s really none of your damn business, so if there’s nothing I can help you with-”

“On the contrary.” Murphy interrupted. “I think we could help each other out just fine.”

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Raven scoffed. “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. 

Murphy grinned at her: definitely the cat that got the cream. “Just like that.” Raven shook her head and skulked off back to the living room. “What can I say, Reyes.” He called, following her out. “I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”

Raven threw herself down on the sofa and toyed idly with the remote, trying not to look as though she were sulking. “So while I’ve been sitting here, imagining all the different ways you might have died, you’ve been swanning around kneading tiger loaves and proofing fucking pastry like some kind of super-nerd in Polis.” 

“Look,” he said, flopping down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’m sorry. I missed the last bus. It took me nearly two hours to walk back - you’re lucky we’re not getting food poisoning. And my god would that ruin me.” Murphy paused before shooting her a guarded glance and continuing quietly. “Here I was thinking you might just be a little proud of me.”

Raven looked up at him, taking a sharp intake of breath at the accusation before trying again. “No, I am. Really.” She affirmed. “I just- I’m really pleased for you, Murphy. It’s great that you’re finally getting back someplace you actually want to be... I just worried, that’s all. It’s stupid; I know.” Raven trailed off and decided that anything further would just be digging, but a pressing thought nudged its way insistently to the front of her mind. “How’re you gonna get there for five, Murphy? The first bus to Polis doesn’t leave till seven.”

Murphy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Managed alright tonight, didn’t I?”

Raven stared at him open mouthed. “You can’t be serious? Murphy that’s ridiculous! You can’t walk there and back. You’d have to leave at three in the morning.” 

Murphy shrugged again. “You offering me a lift, Reyes?” Raven snorted at the notion, to which Murphy snarked back. “Yep, didn’t think so.”

* * *

True to his word, Murphy did make them dinner. Grateful as ever, Raven devoured her portion of lasagne in record time and wondered what she would do when he finally got himself back on his feet and left her alone with her ready meals and frozen pizzas again. It didn’t really bear thinking about, so Raven resolved to swallow her pride and at some point ask him if he’d give her a few lessons around the kitchen. But definitely not this week. His head was big enough already.

“Raven, if you keep staring like that, you’re gonna give a guy ideas.” Murphy sniped. “Put your eyeballs back in your face.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” She mumbled back sheepishly, not realising she had been gawping at him. Murphy raised an eyebrow at her when she didn’t immediately continue and waved a hand at her to encourage her to go on. She hesitated, concern etched across her face. Revealing her idea would surely disclose far more than she was willing to get into right now, but the longer she thought about it, the more it seemed like the only viable option for him. 

Raven stood up abruptly. “Come with me.” She demanded. Her tone was short and clipped. When Murphy didn’t budge, continuing to chew his lasagne thoughtfully with a suspicious glint in his eyes, Raven took matters into her own hands and tugged his plate from his grasp, setting it down on the table. She thrust her open hand back at him impatiently. “Come on.” 

Murphy lay his fork down carefully on his abandoned plate and rubbed his hands nervously across his jeans. “Where to?” 

“Just get up, Murphy.” Raven snatched at his wrist and pulled him bodily from the sofa, dragging him stubbornly towards the door, only letting go to pick up her keys. 

She ushered him out into the hallway, not bothering to check if he was following her as she made her way out towards the garages at the back of the complex. The closer they got, the more Raven began to question her decision. But despite the way her heart hammered its way chokingly up her throat, she knew she couldn’t let him make the two hour walk in the morning, regardless of what he might think of her once she’d laid out her solution. He was finally starting to fix his life up and she’d be damned if she stood in the way now. There’s no way she was letting this become an excuse to slide back into old ways. 

It was almost dark outside now, the dusk hazy in the glow of the first streetlights and Raven shivered a little in the crisp night air as she unlocked the padlock on her unit. The metal shutter shrieked as she thrust it up overhead and the singular yellow bulb buzzed and flickered for a few moments as she yanked on the dangling cord by the door. 

“Is this where I meet my grisly end?” Murphy joked drily. 

Raven chose not to respond and instead disappeared into a shadowy corner at the back of the garage. Murphy waited outside, listening amusedly to her heft a few boxes and swearing as she shook out a grubby tarpaulin sheet, choking on the rising cloud of dust. A few more street lights blinked on in the carpark and his attention was briefly diverted.

“Ta da.” The sentiment was not reflected in her voice. 

Murphy turned round to find her wheeling out a familiar object. He couldn’t believe it. For a few seconds, he was speechless.

“Is that-”

“Yeh.” Raven cleared her throat and pushed the bicycle out onto the tarmac. 

“But I- It was all-”

“Yeh.” Raven nodded, lips pressed together and eyes trained firmly somewhere around the spokes on the front wheel. “Mangled to shit.”

Murphy cast his eyes over the red frame and ran a tentative hand along the top tube, which had clearly been buffed and resprayed. He wouldn’t have been able to tell by her handiwork; it looked brand new. No, it was the absence of his name, engraved by hand in the metalwork, that told him instead. Raven noticed him pause and rubbed absently at her shoulder. 

“It was in a pretty bad state when you left it.” Murphy tried to catch her line of sight but she still stared defiantly at the ground. “Sinclair brought it in after he got back from the hospital. Sat in the back of the shop for months.” She breathed out heavily through her nose. “You know, he wanted me to defer for another year. Said I’d be better off waiting til I was properly recovered but there was no way in hell I was waiting any longer. God I was a bitch. He wouldn’t let me do anything by myself. Anyway, I was hobbling around pretty well by about six months, so he finally started letting me back in the shop since I’d been such a pain in the ass the whole time he made me sit out. Found it lurking under a sheet by the back door. It was the only thing he’d let me touch.” 

Raven ground the toe of her boot against a patch of loose gravel and scuffed the stones along the tarmac. “Anyway, figured since it cost me nearly three months savings it’d be stupid to let it rot on the scrapheap.” Raven gestured loosely at the bike. “Front wheel and fork were buckled pretty bad and the paintwork was scratched to hell. Had to repair the crank and chainset, new breaklines. Whatever. It was kind of cathartic I suppose. Felt like I’d purged myself by the end of it. Let go of a few things. New beginnings and all that.” 

Raven chanced a look at Murphy to find him still fingering the top tube where she’d once scored his name. The metal polished and smooth, no trace left behind. 

“Anyway, it’s been sat in here for as long as I’ve been in the flat, so…” She patted the saddle good naturedly, a sad smile forming on her lips. “Reckon you can still ride it?” 

“God, let’s hope so.” He returned quietly. “Don’t think I could survive another round of lessons from you, Reyes. Once was quite enough, thanks.” 

Raven jabbed him lightly in the shoulder and he chuckled to see a glimmer of humour dance round the corners of her lips. “Cheeky bastard. I’m a fantastic teacher.”

“Yeh, ok then. If you say so.”

“Can you ride it or not?” 

“You nearly fucking killed me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen. Answer the question.”

“You launched me down the main hill into Arkadia and yelled ‘don’t hit the front brake’.”

“I pushed you round the park on it for a bit first. What did you want me to do? Hold your hand? Kiss it better when you ignored my advice and took flight over the crossbar and face planted the floor?” Raven grinned impishly at the memory and Murphy, though pleased she was feeling more jovial about the situation, couldn’t help but tense his jaw in frustration. “Come on, then. Show me what you’re made of.”

Raven pushed the bike further into his hands and perched herself on the edge of the kerb to watch. Murphy grumbled to himself about being some kind of performing monkey but swung his leg over anyway and made off to a wobbly start, which had Raven giggling like a teenager on the floor. By the time he’d done a few laps, his muscle memory had kicked in and he’d managed a few graceful figures of eight around the car park. Raven gave him a sarcastic cheer when he got cocky and leant back to have a go with no hands and nearly careened into an abandoned SUV that never moved from lot number 8. 

He lurched over to the kerbside and rested his toe precariously on the path. Raven was still squawking about his near miss and he couldn’t help but join in the ribbing. It felt good, like he hadn’t laughed properly in a long time and when he really looked at her he wondered if she felt that way too. She was standing up now, nudging him insistently and demanding a go but he just laughed back in her face and refused.

“If you want a go, Reyes, you can jump on the back for old times sake. But there’s no way I’m letting you take this away from me now.” 

“Yours never had any pegs, dumbass.” Raven whined.

“Then you’ll have to hang onto the saddle.” He smirked back. She folded her arms in distaste. “Or you could try sitting up front.” He offered cheekily.

Raven growled at him. “Fine I’ll get on the back, but if you crash with us both on here, I’m gonna kick your ass.” 

She swung her bad leg over first and clutched onto the seat rails at the back. When she’d wiggled herself into a more comfortable position, Raven gave him a swift shove in the back of his knee with her toe and demanded he get a move on. He grinned at her over his shoulder and pushed off from the kerb, labouring slightly at first as he stood firmly on the pedals at each rotation to pick up the pace. He completed a few steady laps of the car park before he stepped it up a notch and swung it back round for a final figure of eight. Raven shrieked as he hared round the back of the SUV and leaned confidently into the corner, speeding up for one last length. As he skirted round the far lamp post at the end of the lot, Raven squealed into his ear as she buried her face in the back of his shoulder and he felt her fist his shirt tightly in her delicate fingers. He nearly skidded into the concrete bollards at the heat of her breath on his skin through the cotton of his shirt but he couldn’t help the beaming grin that crept onto his face when she slid a hand round his stomach to grip him even more tightly than before. 

Murphy lamped on the back brake outside her garage and laughed heartily at the grunt Raven issued when she was launched forward off the saddle and collided with his solid back. Her hands reached out instinctively to clutch at his shoulders to steady herself and they were both breathless with the exertion of it all. Raven finally clambered off the back and Murphy wheeled the bike back into the dingy unit, still panting with the effort of toting her round the parking lot. She jerked off the light and hauled the shutter down, pulling on the padlock a few times to ensure it was secured. When she turned around, Murphy was staring at her, his face contorted into a painful mix of gratitude and nostalgia.

“What?” She asked nervously. Murphy’s eyes glistened in the orange glare of the streetlights and for a moment Raven wondered whether he might cry.

Unexpectedly, Murphy closed the gap between them and pulled her in tightly against his chest. Raven wasn’t sure what had come over him but she felt him hesitate when she did not immediately return his touch and so she slid her hands cautiously around his back, one firmly at his waist and the other just clutching at his shoulder. He relaxed against her and nestled his head further into her shoulder, mumbling something wordlessly against her jacket, his fingers catching idly in the ends of her hair as it cascaded down her back. 

Turning to rest her cheek against his shoulder, Raven whispered: “I didn’t get a word of that.”

Murphy snorted dolefully into her neck and repeated himself with a melancholic sigh. “I said thank you. For not giving up on me.” He pressed his hands a little firmer against her back and added: “Not completely, not yet, anyway. I know it must have been painful to keep it after everything I did. And I know you did it for you and not for me. But- it means a lot, all the same.” 

Raven pulled back slightly to look at him. “Hey?” She said softly, dipping her head slightly to catch his eye. “I know we both said some really shitty things and god knows you really screwed up when you fucked off and left me, but-” Raven hesitated before continuing with a shaky breath. “Damnit, Murphy. I missed you. I missed the old you, the one before all of this- this mess. And despite everything, I’d do anything to help get him back.” 

It felt like a confession, a secret whispered in the night, but the longer he stayed the more she knew it was true. She _had_ missed him. She’d missed _them_. It felt dangerous to say it out loud, but it was too late now. He was her friend and she loved him. No matter how close she got with Clarke or Bellamy or Jasper or any of her newfound friends, nothing came close to Murphy. The solidarity she had felt with him by her side was overwhelming and there was an aching hole in her gut where he used to reside. 

Murphy’s eyes were unreadable as he returned her earnest stare. They flickered apprehensively across her face and she didn’t miss the way they lingered on her lips before they snapped back up to hold her gaze. She could feel his shallow breath on her cheek, his nose inches away from her own and the air seemed to pulsate with an electrical charge that was at once both exciting and alarming. Raven drew her hands slowly down his back to hold him steadfastly at the waist and swallowed the urge to pull him back in. Instead she tried for a casual smile. “I got you, Murphy. We got this.” 

A chill breeze ruffled through Murphy’s hair and Raven thought it must have been impossible for him not to have felt the way her heart thundered against her chest when she shivered against him. Murphy’s lips parted faintly, maybe just to say something in return to her, but to Raven, it almost seemed as though he might lean down to kiss her and in that moment she couldn’t be certain that she’d have the resolve to pull away. Her heart still stammered out it’s fatal warning - _we’ve been here before, he’s too vulnerable, I’m too vulnerable_ \- but maybe that had always been the problem. Maybe it was time to just stop worrying about it all…

The screeching yowls of a nearby catfight cut through the tension between them, jarring Raven out of her thoughts as the offending tom shot out from behind the garages, its pursuer scrabbling aggressively after it in a fit of spits and growls. Murphy released her quickly, pushing away from her shoulders with trembling hands. 

“I better head in.” Murphy sounded gruff in the moonlight but he made no effort to clear the gravelly tone in his voice. “Early morning and all that.” 

Raven nodded meekly and followed him in silence back towards the complex. Unspoken words hung heavily between them as they trudged across the car park, close enough that occasionally Murphy’s knuckles grazed her own. It might have been entirely unintentional but when they collided for a fourth time and Murphy’s index finger curled hesitantly around her little finger, there was no mistaking the softness in the gesture and, this time, neither one of them pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I've now written over 30k words - this is insane! Thanks for continuing to read and for all the support, it means a heck of a lot :) Let's see if I can get a move on with the next few chapters before trials require marking...


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn’t like she’d been lying about Murphy sleeping on her sofa, but she hadn’t made any effort to tell anyone either. As far as she could tell, Murphy seemed to have well and truly burned all his bridges because, although they had no way of contacting him even if they wanted to, nobody appeared to be all that bothered that he had suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. To his credit, Murphy didn’t seem to give two shits about the whole debacle but, increasingly, Raven felt a creeping sense of annoyance on his behalf as more and more time rolled by without so much as a passing comment on his mysterious whereabouts. 

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much.” He said one evening after she’d come back from a day out with Clarke and her girlfriends, ranting about some tasteless joke Bellamy’s sister had made at his expense at the bar. She hadn’t explicitly mentioned his name, but it was blatantly obvious to all concerned who the shallow jibe was about. Clarke had sniggered along with the rest of them before the moment was gone and talk turned to new engagements and other grossly optimistic affairs that did nothing to lower Raven’s raised hackles. 

“I don’t know why it _doesn’t_ bother you.” She grumbled. “I thought they were supposed to be your friends?” 

Murphy shot her an amused glance. “Newsflash, Reyes. I’ve never had any friends.”

“Gee, thanks Murphy. Good to know where I stand.”

“You know what I meant, Reyes.” 

“But seriously, though. How did you even end up at Bellamy’s?” Raven slid a can of coke across the coffee table to him and slumped down on the sofa. “He doesn’t really strike me as your kind of guy.” 

Murphy laughed and hummed in response. “He isn’t, I suppose, not really. I guess we kinda just fell into it.” Raven settled herself more comfortably on the sofa, maneuvering her bum leg out into a less awkward position so that it knocked against Murphy’s knee where he sat, cross-legged, taking up more than his fair share of the cushions. She waited for him to continue, watching him take a calculated swig from his can. 

“We moved in the same circles. Back in the day.” Murphy wiped nervously at his top lip and rested his fist against his jaw. “Ended up in the same home more than once after his mom died. Well, until he managed to get custody for Octavia. Didn’t see him for dust then.”

Raven tucked her good leg under her numb knee for support and wracked her brain for any kind of memory of Bellamy before her run in with Clarke. “I don’t remember you ever talking about him.” She said quietly, tracing a finger round the ring of her can.

Murphy drew his eyebrows together in thought as he considered this. “No, I don’t suppose you would.” He sniffed. “That year I met you, the court granted him guardianship. Can’t say I blame them. Don’t think I’d have ever looked back either. Anyway, when things went south I took a chance on an old number I had floating around. Figured it was worth a shot. Lucky for me he picked up and the rest, well… You know the rest.”

Raven nodded solemnly. Things could certainly have been better over the last couple of years; that was an understatement. But as she glanced up at Murphy from her corner of the sofa, she couldn’t help but think that maybe things were starting to look up. In an effort to move the conversation on from its stagnation, Murphy had started blethering on about the bakery and how Lemkin’s daughter had let him try out a new batch of pastries for the morning service. She let the words die out to a warm buzz and felt a warm pool open up in her core, somewhere between pride and self indulgence, and she wondered briefly whether this was what she sounded like when she prattled on about her latest projects: whether this was how he felt as she gushed about gears and engines and machinations. 

“...so what do you think?” 

_Shit_. Raven blinked away the thought to find Murphy staring up at her expectantly. “Sorry, what?” She said, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. 

“About the bakery - should I do it?” He cocked his head slightly to appraise her and realised that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. She offered up an apologetic grimace. “The coffee shop was only ever supposed to be a couple of part time weekend shifts. I know I’ve been picking up whatever I can, but now that things are getting going at Lemkin’s and my new pastries are a hit, Reese wants to know if I’ll take a permanent role in the week. It’s not quite full time but it’s way more hours than Stella will ever be able to give me. And it’s something I’m actually good at. Although I am pretty damn good at ruining Katie’s day.” He added with a sadistic smirk. God he hated her. 

Raven stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Obviously you should rip her hand off.” She shook her head, confused. “Why are you even asking me this, Murphy? It’s a great opportunity for you, why would you even consider turning her down?” 

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “What about Stella?” Raven bristled slightly. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it. 

“What about her?” 

Maybe she spat that out with a bit too much malice; at best, she sounded petty. They hadn’t spoken about the night outside the garage and, for the time being, Raven was perfectly content to pretend it hadn’t happened. As far as she was concerned, avoidance was key. But in reality, it was impossible to ignore. She’d noticed the way he seemed more comfortable around the apartment. The way she caught him staring when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way he was ever-so discreetly more tactile: a brush of the hand here, a touch of her arm there. Testing the water, so to speak. And as much as her heart thrummed with the possibility, her head continued to remind her of the consequences. Of what happens when you cross the line. It felt as though they were teetering on the edge of something and she knew from experience what waited for them on the other side. And she really didn’t want this to blow up in her face again.

“Well, do you think she’ll be pissed? I haven’t been there that long-”

“Who cares.” Raven cut him off abruptly. “Work your week’s notice and don’t look back. Do you really think she gives a toss about you?” Murphy looked like he was going to respond but Raven ploughed on anyway. “Fuck no. When the shit hits the fan, who do you think’s going to be the first one out the door, hm? That’s right: bye bye John Murphy. Doesn’t matter how cute she thinks your little cockroach ass looks in that dumb apron, you’ll be out that door quicker than you can say ‘bean served’.” 

Well if it didn’t sound petty before, she knew it sounded worse the moment the cloying impression of Stella left her lips. She held her ground as Murphy stared at her in disbelief, her fierce glare just daring him to contradict her. 

Instead he pursed his lips and smirked, tugging playfully at her fuzzy sock on the foot he knew she couldn’t feel. “You think my ass looks cute, Reyes?”

Raven refused to be played. “Eurgh, please.” She snorted, yanking her foot out of his grasp and pushing herself off the sofa. “We both know you practically spray those jeans on in the morning, you know full well what kind of effect you’re having on her.” 

Murphy watched her go, clearly retreating into the safety of her bedroom for the evening. “Hey, Reyes?” He called after her. Raven paused in the doorway and he flashed her a wolfish grin. “That wasn’t a no.” 

Raven rolled her eyes, slamming the door on his wicked cackling, and threw herself face first into her bedding in agonising embarrassment, longing to end her suffering by suffocation.

* * *

_“Fuck’s sake, Reyes, I buzzed you up already! It’s open!” Murphy shouts as he hops along the living room with one leg in his pants and the other flailing around, desperately trying to dress himself before he gets to the door. The incessant knocking doesn’t cease until he hurls it open with a scowl only to be greeted by Raven’s shit-eating grin._

_“Oh, good. You are awake then.” She chirps, one fist still raised mid-knock._

_“Of course I’m awake. I buzzed you up. You knew the door was open.”_

_“Yeh, but I also knew you weren’t really up, so I guess I solved that problem as well.” She laughs. “Besides, who the fuck isn’t even dressed at one in the afternoon?”_

_“People who didn’t get home from work til gone midnight.” He bitches back at her before noticing what she’s stood next to in the hallway. Murphy sniggers. “What the fuck’s with the granny trolley, Reyes? I mean I know you’re an old lady now but jeez…”_

_Raven feigns a sarcastic laugh at him before flipping him off and barging her way into his living room. “This, my friend, is your lucky day.”_

_“Oh dear god,” Murphy grumbles to himself as he locks the door back up. “What the hell have you brought me? It better not be another useless machine that I have no idea how to use.”_

_“A - that was not a useless machine. It was a vacuum cleaner. B - this little bag of goodies is going to make all your wildest dreams come true.”_

_She flashes him a toothy smile and he really wishes he’d had the sense to shake himself up properly before he let her in because if she keeps saying things like this to him when his brain isn’t fully engaged it might just short circuit on him. If only she knew._ Actually _, he thinks,_ best not _._

_Murphy flings himself down on the sofa in weary defeat. “Please,” he drawls. “Enlighten me.”_

_Raven wheels the trolley into the middle of the living room floor and draws out a can of paint and a brush. “Ta da.” She says, looking inordinately pleased with herself._

_Murphy groans. “Oh, hell no. I’m not doing that today. I just worked a full shift at the restaurant - I am knackered.”_

_Not to be deterred, Raven slinks over to him on the sofa and waves the paintbrush suggestively in his face, the bristles tickling his nose. He tries to swat her away, attempting to give her a cold stare but knowing, in reality, that he probably just looks desperately turned on. “If you want,” she purrs, “I’ve got something that I think might sweeten the deal.” She turns her back on him and Murphy deliberately looks the other way while she’s got her ass in the air, rummaging around in the bottom of her trolley. He really needs to sort himself out._

_Raven emerges with a case of beers. “So…” She says. “How about it?”_

_“It sounds like a lot of hard work.” He counters. Raven rolls her eyes._

_“Just think how good it’s going to look after though. This place is a hovel, Murphy, and I’ll be damned if I let you live in it in the state it’s in.” She pouts and bats her eyelashes at him in the most unbecoming way. “Please?”_

_“Fucking hell, Rey, fine. On one condition.”_

_“Anything.”_

_“Never, and I mean never, do that ever again. You looked like you were having a seizure.”_

_Raven snorts and gives him a quick dig in the ribs as he gets up off the sofa. “Whatever, just go and put some clothes on, loser.”_

_They spend the rest of the afternoon painting his tiny kitchenette and what Murphy imagines is probably the world’s dingiest living room. But he doesn’t care. It’s his and that’s all that matters right now. Raven couldn’t manage to get a decent set of rollers and so far the only piece of furniture he’s bought for himself is his bed. He grins, smug, when he realises that they’re stumped before they’ve even started._

_“There’s no way we’re going to be able to cut it in; I haven’t got anything to stand on.”_

_Raven looks at him as though he’s an idiot. “Are you forgetting something?” Murphy raises an eyebrow at her. “I’m Raven fucking Reyes. I don’t need no damn chair to stand on.”_

_“Well how the fuck are we going to reach it?” He crosses his arms and stares her down._

_“Easy.” She smirks and gives him a shove. “Bend over weirdo.”_

_When he looks like he might protest further, Raven forces him down by the neck, paint can in one hand and a brush in the other, and deftly mounts his shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world._

_“Well, come on then.” She chides, poking a finger in one of his ears so that he squirms away from her, sounding far too happy for his liking._

_Murphy lets out an exasperated sigh through his nose. She really was going to be the death of him. He places his hands firmly over her thighs and straightens up til he’s got her balanced precariously on his shoulders. She wiggles about until she’s more centred and it doesn’t feel like she’s going to disappear off his back. Murphy closes his eyes and tries not to think about the way she’s got her thighs wrapped around him as she hooks her feet round the back of his ribs so she’s anchored solidly against him. Her body is warm, pressed up against him, and he forces the images that bloom, unbidden, from his mind. When she bends down to dangle the paint can in front of his face, Murphy thinks he might just blow a fuse at the way her breasts rub heavily against the crown of his head and he takes the can from her with trembling hands._

_Under careful instruction, Murphy carries her round the periphery of his flat, one hand still resting lazily on her thigh and the other clutching the pot of magnolia while Raven cuts in all the edges. Murphy curses when she catches his cheek with the paintbrush but she just laughs in response. For a minute, he almost forgets the hot embrace of her powerful thighs around his neck as he dips his knees in retaliation and pretends to drop her, but she clamps around him tighter and he swears he can feel the blood literally dissipate from his brain. He jostles the can inadvertently and splashes it up his own hand, which makes her howl even more. Bent double over his head, he can feel the vibrations of her hysteria through her chest, as the forgotten brush in her hand drips on his sharp nose and he knows he needs to put her down before he loses all sense entirely._

_It doesn’t take them long once the cutting in is done and Raven turns up the portable radio she borrowed from the shop while they roller the rest of the walls. They crack open a couple of cans: she dances round his living room in her socks and he paints rude words on the wall before she rollers over them. When they finally collapse on the crappy sofa he’d inherited with the flat, Murphy can’t help but admire their handiwork. He clinks her can with a smile, all his earlier fatigue forgotten._

_“Well, I gotta hand it to you Reyes. It does look a damn sight better for a lick of paint.”_

_Raven hums in approval then turns to give him the once over. “Shame the same can’t be said for you.”_

_“Rude.” He snorts. “You’re not looking so hot yourself. I think you got more on you than you did on the walls.” Murphy nods pointedly at her red sweater which now resembles a snowy Christmas jumper. Raven looks down to inspect it._

_“It’s not that bad.” She moans, kicking up her feet into his lap and throwing him another can._

_They’ve been bitching and sniggering on the sofa for almost an hour when Raven sits bolt upright and announces that they should go out to celebrate their success. Murphy laughs and says she can’t can’t go anywhere looking like she does._

_“Fine, then I’ll just jump in the shower if that will make it better.”_

_“Be my guest.” Murphy says, sincerely hoping she won’t go through with it. Maybe he should try harder. “But it’s not like you’ve got a change of clothes, so I fail to see how this improves your predicament.”_

_Raven pauses and seems to consider this for a moment before she stands up and inspects her sweater again from a number of new angles. Murphy tries his best not to dwell on the perfectly formed handprint he’d left on the ass of her jeans as he’d helped her scrabble off his back earlier that afternoon, but he knows it’s no good when he feels the familiar stirring in his pants._

_As if things couldn’t get any worse, while he’s busy daydreaming about just where he’d put his hands if she let him, Raven shrugs indifferently and pulls off her sweater, announcing that her clean vest will do. It rides up along her toned stomach as she wriggles out of the arms and Murphy thinks she might actually be trying to kill him. She tosses the paint-splattered sweater into his dumb-struck face and rearranges the grey vest over her hips._

_“What about the jeans?” He manages to choke out as he balls up the sweater and drops it on the opposite cushion._

_“Eh, it’ll be fine. They look shabby chic.” She offers with a smile. “Come on, there’s a new bar on the high street, my friend can sneak us in the back.”_

_From the moment he hears the thudding bass as they slink through the dank alley behind Raven’s new favourite haunt, Murphy knows it’s not going to be his scene but he keeps his mouth shut. Who is he to pass up a night dancing with Raven?_

_Not that he intends on doing that much dancing anyway. As they weave their way towards the bar, Murphy makes sure to keep his distance. He’s already well on his way to being drunk after they polished off the rest of the case Raven brought round earlier and he really doesn’t want to embarrass himself. The music pounds in his ears and he can feel it reverberating in his chest as she shimmies away from the bar, pressing a pint into his hand and grabbing his free one with her own to lead him away through the crowd._

_The air is stifling and thick with sweat as he props himself up a pillar at the edge of the dance floor. He can feel the dampness of his own shirt sticking to his skin as he presses himself further into the shadows, watching, mesmerised, as Raven dances without inhibition. Really she dances around him, but occasionally she takes his hand in an attempt to pull him out of his stupor but he only helps her do a few twirls before he morphs back into the wallpaper. His eyes are already bleary but the flashing white lights are blinding and exaggerate her movements as she stutters in and out of view, swinging her hips in time to the bass and he slugs back the rest of his pint in one motion as he tries to drown out the voice in his head that’s telling him to man up and take a chance on her._

_He shakes his empty glass at her and she nods at him, draping herself over his shoulder and shouting about a bottle of water. Her breath in his ear makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he gives in to the urge to lay a hand on her hip as he listens to her request, trying desperately not to lean into her touch as she catches his skin with her lips._

_By the time he’s shoved his way to the bar, Murphy thinks he might just have his emotions under control but a quick glance back over at Raven sets him off again. Only this time, he knows that the fizzing in his veins has less to do with her sensual dance moves and everything to do with the wanker currently trying to get in her pants. The barman takes his order and Murphy’s just about to make off with his pint and Raven’s bottle of water when he catches the way the guy on the dance floor is getting up in her space._

_“On second thoughts,” he shouts over the bar, “I’ll take two double shots of vodka as well.”_

_The barman nods at him and hastily splashes the liquor across the side, eager to get back down to a rowdy hen party at the other end of the bar. Murphy necks the first the moment it hits the drip tray in front of him and then reaches immediately for the second. He turns and checks out what’s happening on the dancefloor and suppresses a groan and an eye roll as he realises that he recognises the dickhead trying to cop a feel. He knows he really shouldn’t do it, but he knocks back the second shot of vodka in one, slamming it down a bit too vigorously when he’s done. He’s paid for them now and besides, maybe with a little liquid courage he’ll be able to muster up the balls to do something about his predicament._ Like fuck _, the voice in his head taunts him._

_As he snakes his way back towards them, Murphy knows he’s made a mistake. His extremities are fuzzy now and he feels detached from his body as he floats seamlessly through the sea of gyrating bodies. Somewhere along the way, he vaguely registers a six foot skinhead check his shoulder as he brushes past his girlfriend, but Murphy doesn’t even feel it. When he reaches his pillar, Raven is propped uncomfortably up the wall, attempting to keep her admirer at bay. It’s obvious he’s trying to hit on her but it’s even more obvious to Murphy that she’s not interested and he knows for a fact that she’s told this guy a dozen times it’s not on the cards. He’s almost predatory as he inserts himself aggressively in between them, turning his back on the familiar asshole to hand Raven her water, and she shoots him a grateful smile._

_Murphy leans down to press his temple against her cheek. “You want me to get rid of him?”_

_Raven nods discreetly but he can feel every movement from where they’re pressed together and his stomach rolls when she places a hand on his chest in thanks. He returns her curt nod and takes a long pull from his pint before painting on a savage leer. Throwing a casual arm around her shoulder, Murphy turns on what his addled brain quickly determines to be his rival._

_“So, Collins.” Finn gives him a benign smile. “The fuck you playing at with my girl, Reyes?”_

_Murphy can’t help the insidious ripple of satisfaction that courses through his muscles as he watches Finn search cautiously between the two of them, lingering on Raven a moment longer as he tries to establish any semblance of truth in the statement. Murphy flexes his arm a little tighter around her and, although he knows she’s more than capable of taking care of herself and that this is all just a ruse, his chest swells a little when she tucks herself more firmly under his shoulder. He runs his tongue contemplatively over his teeth as he surveys Finn for a reaction. It appears for a few seconds that they might have reached a stalemate and Murphy feels his nostrils flare in eager anticipation: any excuse for a conflict. He raps his fingers impatiently around his pint glass and takes another calculated pull._

_Finn ducks his head slightly and gestures with his own full glass. “Relax, Murphy. I was only asking for a dance.”_

_Murphy pouts at his reply, clearly disappointed in his response. He drains the rest of his beer and smacks his lips, swirling the dregs idly in the bottom before cocking his head to stare Finn down. “Funny. Because I think Raven made it pretty clear the first three times you laid your hands on her that this wasn’t up for negotiation.” Murphy takes a step forward so that he’s toe to toe with Finn, his angular face just inches away, the hard lines sharpened by the flashing lights and semi-darkness. He jabs his index finger into Finn’s chest with his pint hand and flashes him a dangerous smirk._

_Somewhere behind him he can feel Raven tug urgently on his belt loops but he’s not backing down just yet. He digs his finger into Finn’s chest a bit further and leans into his ear so Raven can’t hear him. “You keep your fucking hands off her, you hear me? You touch her again and I’ll break every goddamn bone in your motherfucking hands.”_

_Another tug at his jeans forces him to resurface from his territorial haze but he makes a point of standing up to his full height, intent on completing his display. Finn opens his mouth to retaliate but, before he can utter a sound, Murphy forces his empty glass into his free hand and gives his face a few condescending slaps, clenching his fingers bruisingly into the back of his neck with the final clap. “Cheers, mate.”_

_Murphy gives him a sordid wink as Raven clasps hold of his hand to drag him away, demanding a final dance before they go home. He knows he’s hammered and he’s more than happy to oblige._

_The next thing he knows, Murphy finds himself face planting the top step of the first floor landing just outside his flat. He lets out a string of curses and feels Raven drag him back up to his feet, shushing him quietly like some kind of naughty school boy. The thought turns him on and when she props him up his front door he sniggers somewhat as he feels her root around in his back pocket for the key. In an effort to prolong her hand in his jeans he tries to wriggle away but succeeds only in rubbing his hard-on up against the letterbox._

_“For the love of god, Murphy, just stand still…” She mumbles, finally retrieving the key and pushing him in through the door. He manages to stay upright this time but not before he kicks over a half full tin of paint by the sofa and stumbles into her now empty trolley. Raven takes him firmly by the shoulders and steers him towards his bedroom with a sigh. “Come on, jackass, let’s get you to bed.”_

_Murphy collapses like a rag doll onto the mattress and if he had any of his wits about him he might be embarrassed by the way Raven has to scoop him up into a more comfortable position. He’s fairly pliant as she tugs off his shoes and drops them unceremoniously by the side of the bed, but his limbs are leaden when she attempts to undress him. He snorts incoherently as she unbuttons his jeans and mumbles some crass joke that might have made her laugh if she could understand his slurred words. Raven wrestles his jeans down over his knees and he kicks them off the rest of the way. Curling away onto his side, he becomes tetchy and groggy. Raven might almost liken him to an irritable toddler, if it weren’t for the prominent erection in his underwear. It’s not only a stark reminder that they’re no longer just childhood friends but a harsh wake up call that they’ve been skirting around the growing restlessness between them for months._

_Raven abandons her efforts to undress him and goes to fetch him a glass of water for when he inevitably wakes up hanging. On her return, Murphy has somehow managed to get down to just his boxers and is sprawled comatose in the middle of the bed. Breathing heavy and even, Raven decides that he must have finally passed out for the night. She strips out of her own jeans, mollified by the relative safety of his sleeping form, and subtly wiggles out of her bra so that she’s left in just her vest and briefs. When he pipes up from where he’s half buried in the duvet, Raven gives a small start._

_“What’re you doing?”_

_Raven takes a moment to respond as she wonders just how long he’s been lying there staring at her, all messy hair and bleary eyes. “There’s no way I’m sleeping on that disgusting sofa in the living room, Murphy. You’re just gonna have to bunk up with me.”_

_He laughs at that: it’s dirty and catches low in his throat. “It was good enough to park your ass on earlier, Reyes.”_

_“You leave my ass out of this.” She warns him softly. Sliding in next to him, Raven rests her head on his pillow. “Now, shut up and go to sleep.”_

_Murphy just smiles drunkenly at her and plays clumsily with the ends of her hair before he can’t keep his unfocused eyes open any longer. As his features relax and his fingers still, entwined now in a multitude of knots and tangles, Raven can’t help but wonder when exactly this became their thing._

* * *

Of course, he had taken her advice and handed in his notice to Stella. When he really thought about it, it had been a ridiculous question to ask but he was still hung up on the idea of burning yet another bridge when he had only just managed to get himself back into employment. It felt wrong somehow to be the one ending the contract: it was usually him being ejected from the premises, often with a fair amount of physical force depending on what exactly he’d done that particular time. Stella took it pretty well, almost as though she’d been expecting it. Still, he thought he’d caught a look of disappointment on her face as she bustled away into the front to tend to a growing line of customers. He’d taken a few seconds to revel in the smugness of it all before going out to lend a hand. Maybe it made him an ass, but it felt nice to be wanted. 

Murphy had nearly worked his week’s notice; he just had a couple of morning shifts left the following week and then he would be starting permanently at Lemkin’s on the Friday. It almost didn’t feel real. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it but he hoped to God he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

For once, things seemed to be getting back on track, both in terms of his job prospects and on the Raven front. He tried not to dwell on the accident that had led to them becoming strangers over the course of the last three years but it was always there, eating away at the back of his mind. All the things he’d said to her. The way he’d stormed out of her flat and her life the moment he made that reckless, unforgivable decision. For some reason, she hadn’t kicked him out at the end of the initial week she had offered him and he wasn’t stupid enough to ask her if she wanted him to leave. He was all too aware she might say yes and then he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself. 

Murphy knew he’d missed her. He knew just how big the hole was in his life where he’d ripped her forcibly from it, but it wasn’t until they’d settled back into the strange, domesticity of this new routine that he realised just how much he needed her. There was no doubt that he owed everything he’d currently achieved to her and he knew she was fully aware of it too. As comfortable as it had started to seem, though, there was a part of Murphy that couldn’t help but panic about the deja vu of it all. _This time_ , he told himself, _it’s different. I’ll be different._

A ping from the coffee table distracted him from his thoughts. He sauntered lazily over to the open laptop and clicked on a message that had popped up from _allkindsofawesome@gmail.com_ with a grin. 

_home within the hour, fuckin starving! pizzas on you chef ;)_

Murphy barked out a laugh at her demands and typed back: _that hungry ey? one might almost say… raven-ous?_

The ping was almost immediate which only served to make his smile even broader.

_hilarious… now be a good boy and don’t keep your customer waiting_

He didn’t even need to ask for her order and filled out the form online automatically. The receipt popped up with a big green tick and an estimated arrival time in the region of forty-five minutes and so Murphy set off to find a clean towel to shower and change into his pyjamas before it arrived. 

When he emerged into the living room twenty minutes later, pink faced and flush chested, wearing only his pyjama pants, top in hand, Murphy strolled over to the telly cabinet to fish out the movie he had bought earlier in the day on the way back from work. He turned the case over in his hands and dropped it casually on the coffee table. Raven was usually out on a Saturday night with her girls and normally he took advantage of the opportunity to get an early night since the sofa wasn’t in use. Occasionally he’d find himself in a good mood and he would order a takeaway, spending a couple of hours dancing round her living room in his boxers to some obnoxiously loud music in order to irritate Mrs Edwards across the hall, not that he’d ever tell her _that_ , obviously. 

But Raven was not going out tonight. Sinclair had phoned for a favour last night to ask if she could be on call this weekend since one of his guys was sick. Raven would never leave him stranded and had agreed immediately to cover the shift, despite having already made plans. The girls seemed none too pleased when she messaged to say she was pulling out but nothing would have changed her mind about it. Secretly, Murphy felt a little pleased about the whole arrangement. With his sporadic shifts at both the coffee shop and Lemkin’s, between them they often worked all days of the week which meant that the evenings were often busy and short. This time, though, they were both off in the morning and something inside Murphy had jumped at the opportunity to spend the night in with her on a Saturday for a change. The spiteful voice in the back of his head clocked it and made some acid remark to ridicule him ( _what, did your worthless ass think this might count as a date or something?_ ) but he swiftly shoved it back in its box.

Murphy was kind of surprised when the buzzer rang. He checked the time on the laptop and grumbled under his breath slightly when he saw how early it was, hoping the pizza wouldn’t be cold by the time Raven got back. He picked up his wallet off the sideboard and answered the door without his shirt, ready to make some half hearted complaint about the time, but his words dried up immediately in his throat.

“You are... _not_ pizza.” He heard himself drawl instead, trying to contain what he imagined would be a look of horror identical to the one currently etched on Clarke’s face. Murphy leant defensively up against the door jamb, purposely filling the frame and keeping one hand firmly on the door before she could decide to let herself in. He didn’t miss the way she appraised his half naked form with a mixture of confusion and disgust, her knuckles white around a bottle of prosecco. Her astonishment solidified into a concrete mask of abhorrence.

“Well, now I know why Raven’s been sacking us off.” Clarke peered angrily over his shoulder as if she might be able to find her hiding somewhere in the background. She settled her stony glare back on his. “What the fuck are you doing here, Murphy?”

Murphy wished he’d had the sense to throw on his shirt before he answered the door, but he’d be damned if he let Clarke know that her scrutiny of his half-dressed state was making him uncomfortable and so he flexed his shoulders and stood a bit straighter in the doorway. “I really feel like that should be my line.” He bristled, popping his jaw in distaste. “Raven’s not in, Clarke. I know she already told you she was working so-”

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke interjected. Murphy folded his arms across his chest in frustration. This was not what he’d had planned for tonight. “How long have you been here?”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business since you all conveniently forgot I existed after Jasper made me homeless.”

“Homeless?” Clarke squawked. “You’re really going to lay this on Jasper? After what you did to him?” 

_Ok_ , Murphy thought, _that was a bad choice of words_. “Look, I have a busy evening planned and I really don’t want you spewing out all your trash over my dinner when it arrives so why don’t you just kindly fuck off and leave. Raven isn’t here.”

“Oh, I bet you do.” Murphy could practically feel the heat rising from Clarke’s body as she grew increasingly irate. The rage rolled off her in waves and a small part of Murphy’s brain gleefully entertained the idea that it was possible she might spontaneously combust. “And just what kind of game were you intending to play with Raven tonight, Murphy?”

“What?” He spat, his own fury threatening to bubble to the surface. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I know you.” Clarke ground out through gritted teeth. 

Murphy snorted derisively and stamped down the urge to rip the fizz out of her hand and slam the door in her face. His voice was quiet and dangerous when he found it. “Clearly you don’t know me at all if you’re suggesting what I think you are.”

“I know your game.” Clarke said bitterly. “You’re clearly taking advantage of her. You’ve weasled your way into her apartment and now you’re trying to exploit her. What is it this time? Booze? Gambling? Money?” 

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Clarke ignored him, barrelling on, her voice rising to a shout. “I don’t know what lies you’ve been spinning her, Murphy, but it stops now. Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it from her. I won’t let you do this-”

“Do _what_?” Murphy’s head was reeling but Clarke continued her verbal assault.

“Did you really think no one would notice? That her friends wouldn’t wonder where she was? Why she was distancing herself?”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about, Clarke?” Murphy laughed incredulously. “She was literally out with you the other week! What am I supposed to have done here? For all you knew I was dead in a fucking ditch somewhere: whatever your problem is, it’s not me.”

“You are the poison, John Murphy. You destroy everything you touch. Emori, Bellamy, Jasper. I will not let you do that to Raven. I know you.”

Murphy felt like he’d stepped back into a memory, like he was reliving some long dead argument. Except this time it wasn’t him doing all the shouting: he was just standing there taking it all from Clarke. But when she said those words again he felt something snap inside of him and without warning he found himself yelling right back in her face. 

“You have _no_ idea!” He screamed. “You know _nothing_ about me.”

Clarke lashed out viciously at the finger he’d been pointing in her face. “You need to stay away from her. Before you hurt her just like you hurt everybody else.” 

It was a miracle he could see anything beyond the red mist that descended over his vision. He heard the click of Mrs Edward’s door across the hallway and momentarily wondered whether she was arriving or leaving their little slanging match in the hallway and whether or not she’d be calling the police. But not before he dismissed the concern entirely and continued to scream in Clarke’s self-righteous face. 

“I can’t possibly hurt her any more than I already have! But, for reasons beyond my wildest understanding, she is a better friend that _any_ of you have _ever_ been.” He bellowed. Eyes stinging with the familiar prick of hot, guilty tears, Murphy trembled visibly with anger. “I destroyed the most precious thing I ever had and yet the person I hurt most irrevocably is the _only_ one who didn’t give up on me.”

Murphy’s chest was heaving with the sheer exertion of it all but when he looked into Clarke’s face he was met only with confusion. When a familiar voice sliced through their temporary silence, Murphy’s heart plummeted into the bilious pit in his stomach. 

“What the hell is going on, Clarke? I could hear you fighting from the stairwell.” Raven admonished them. Her eyes were black with fury and embarrassment at the scene they had made. 

Clarke briefly had the grace to look repentant but the feeling quickly passed and she shook her head in disbelief. “Raven,” she started, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. Raven folded her arms in contempt, already poised to challenge whatever came next. Clarke seemed to recognise the determination and she flicked her eyes back to Murphy one more time before she conceded defeat. She stormed away down the corridor, arms in the air, still raging. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re playing with fire. And he burns everyone he touches.” 

As Murphy watched Clarke disappear, the peculiarity of her words struck him again. Raven shifted uncomfortably in the hallway, rearranging her rucksack higher on her shoulder. Gently pushing on the door behind him, Raven slipped past awkwardly to disappear into the flat, eyes averted and unreadable. 

And that was when it dawned on him. They didn’t know what he’d done to her. She’d never told them. She never told anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this spiralled out of control... I hope it's not too long and gangly - all feedback appreciated :)


	10. Chapter 10

“So are we gonna talk about this?” 

Raven continued to unload her rucksack and left Murphy’s question hanging in the empty void between them. He was leant up the front door in such a way that Raven could only assume he wanted to seem casual, but his frustration radiated through his every pore and permeated the tense atmosphere Clarke had left in her wake. 

“Talk about what?” Raven asked, schooling her face into a picture of disinterest as she carried her half eaten lunch into the kitchen to clean up. 

Murphy followed her doggedly with a derisive snort. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we could talk about why Clarke thinks I’m isolating you from all your friends? Or maybe we should start with the fact that you’ve clearly been harbouring me here like some dirty little secret?”

“It’s not like that and you know it.” Raven snapped as she rinsed her tupperware lunchbox and chucked it noisily onto the dishrack.

“Really? Because from where I was standing, that’s exactly what it sounded like. I mean, fuck, it’s not like she could have shouted it any louder. Maybe we could ask Mrs Edwards to compare notes, pretty sure she could clarify for us-”

“I’m not doing this.” Raven pushed past him and headed for her bedroom, Murphy still on her heels. When she stopped short at the doorway, he nearly barrelled straight into her and she turned abruptly to address him. “Will you back off on this, Murphy? I am really not in the mood for this right now.”

Murphy sucked his teeth and curled his lips back into a sneer. “Yeh? Well maybe I really wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at by your stuck up hypocrite of a friend in front of all your neighbours.” 

“Don’t give me that shit, Murphy. Like you give a toss what anyone else thinks.” 

“I give a toss when they’re accusing me of exploiting you! Or did you miss that delightful part of her slanderous tirade?” The brief glimmer of shock that flashed across her eyes was enough to tell him that she hadn’t heard that part and the terrier inside him latched onto it like a vice. “So yes, we are going to talk about this. Because I want to know what the fuck is going on. I want to know what I’m supposed to have done here, because I think I’m owed a fucking good explanation after the verbal beration I’ve just endured in your hallway.” 

Raven swallowed the acid retort that was building in her throat. She knew it was unfair, really she did. But they were just as bad as each other when cornered and she knew she was more likely to get her claws out and rip everything to pieces than to voluntarily admit that she’d been fobbing her friends off more than usual in favour of spending her evenings in with him. Her stomach twisted as she realised just how bad this looked to him. Shame flooded her belly and tingled in her fingertips. She pinned them determinedly under her arms in an effort to quell the sensation but succeeded only in looking more contemptuous. Murphy immediately misunderstood the gesture. 

“Fine.” He forced out bitterly, disappearing swiftly into the bathroom and emerging moments later fully clothed. “I’d say it’s good to know where I stand, but it seems I’ve had to work it all out for myself as per... Who was I fucking kidding.” 

For a moment, Raven felt as though the world had tipped her upside down. She watched in slow motion as he slung on his jacket mid-stride and grabbed his keys and wallet from the sideboard. The blood thundered in her ears as her brain started working overtime in the hopes of backtracking enough to stop him. If he left now, like this, who knew what came next. _We already know what comes next_ , Raven reproached herself. 

Panic flooded her limbs and Murphy paused briefly at the sight of her taking a tentative step towards him. “Just wait,” she blurted out. Murphy shook his head and fingered the serrated edge of the front door key. “It’s my fault.” 

“So I’m starting to believe.” He replied sarcastically, but he made no further effort to leave. 

It stung and, to be honest, she couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure whether he’d meant it or not. But she’d started. If she said nothing now, he would certainly take off and she had no idea where that would leave them or if he would come back at all. Time to lay her secrets out.

“Lately,” she sighed, “I’ve been pulling out of girls’ night more. The last couple of weeks I’ve made up some shitty excuses to not hang out with them.” Raven fidgeted uncomfortably in the bedroom doorway.

“Strike one.” Murphy snorted. “You were out with them for girls’ night the other week.”

“Ok, bad choice of phrasing.” Raven huffed, picking at a loose cotton thread on her shirt. “Every Wednesday we have like a game night kind of thing. It’s stupid, but I don’t usually have a lot else on so I go with it. Sometimes we don’t even bother with the games; it’s more of a mid-week bitch. Anyway, I haven’t really felt like it for the last few weeks and I was meant to be hosting this week so I lied again. Said that I wasn’t feeling well so I couldn’t host.”

Murphy stared at her, eyebrow raised as if to say: _come on, you really expect me to eat this crap up?_

“Honestly, it’s getting so boring. I don’t know why I bothered in the first place.” She mumbled.

“Strike two.” Murphy countered, his steely eyes boring into her own. “You’re lying to me. Even now. What the fuck, Raven?”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t want them here. I didn’t want them to-”

“You didn’t want them to know I was here.” He finished for her. _Shit_. That was not what she meant at all.

“No.” Raven shook her head emphatically and took another step closer. “No, that’s not it at all, Murphy. I swear, please.” Murphy barked out a harsh laugh. Raven felt the desperation clawing its way up her throat as he started to rifle through his wallet. “I just-”

“You just what, Raven? You just didn’t want to leave me here alone? You just thought I needed babysitting?” She was still shaking her head, her mouth open slightly in protest as she tried to interject, to tell him he’d got it all wrong. “Or was it you just didn’t trust me?”

“You’re being ridiculous. I leave you here all the time. You spend hours alone here while I’m working. What are you being such a dick for, Murphy? I’m just trying to tell you-”

“That’s right.” He snapped. “Typical dickhead Murphy strikes again. Well, I guess that’s three.” Raven clenched her jaw in frustration, breathing heavily through her nose as he drew out a few notes and slapped them down on the sideboard. “Enjoy the pizza, Raven. I’m so out of here.”

* * *

_She’s not sure what wakes her but, when she rolls over to check the time, the red display reads three fifteen in the morning. This side of the pillow is cold and the chill raises the hairs on the back of her arms as she tries to stifle a shiver. It’s not the first time she’s been left waiting but this is the latest he’s been so far and it pisses her off that tonight of all night’s he’s clearly forgotten about her. Usually she turns up unannounced, makes herself at home, and in those instances she can’t blame him for staying out when he doesn’t even know she’s here. She’s not so conceited to think that he should be coming back just on the off chance she might be waiting for him._

_But tonight they’d made plans. He’s been working double shifts at the restaurant and Raven has been picking up extra at the shop to try and put a bit aside, ready for when her course starts in the Autumn. She’s hardly seen him these last couple of weeks and it was beginning to make her nervous. She wasn’t really sure why. So they had arranged to spend the night at Murphy’s this Saturday. He would be clocking off at ten instead of somewhere near one. Murphy was going to bring fancy leftovers home for a late dinner and then they were going to catch a midnight movie at the little independent cinema that had opened up a few blocks away._

_Except he stood her up._

__He didn’t stand you up _, a little voice mocks her,_ it would have to have been a date for him to stand you up.

_Raven presses her eyes together a little tighter and curses the pinpricks that assault her eyelids. She blinks away the sting of self pity and shakes herself up, angry with herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. Angry with Murphy for leaving her alone in his flat all night. But, most of all, upset that he could drop her so easily when a better offer came along._

_She must drop off again for a little while because the slamming of the front door jolts her out of her slumber. Her heart is racing in her mouth, breaths coming quick and shallow as she tries to still the shaking in her fingers. Eyes erratic in the darkness, Raven listens for the familiar tread on the carpet. Logically, she knows it will be Murphy but the sudden noise had wrenched her dizzyingly from sleep and her body is still in a temporary state of shock._

_There is a crash in the kitchen and a string of obscene words as he breaks what sounds like a couple of glasses. She closes her eyes again and counts to ten. She wonders if he’ll remember that she might be here or if he’ll be shocked to find her asleep in his bed, what his reaction will be._

_She had waited an hour before she tried to call him. It rang out to voicemail. Twice. The third time it had gone straight to messages. Someone had clearly turned it off. She doesn’t think for a minute that it was him; she’d seen the way the lads from the restaurant played each other and she knew they’d probably found his phone and taken it off him but she also knows he won’t have protested too hard either._

_The light under the doorway shifts as he approaches and she watches as his shadow appears on the far wall when he clumsily shunts open the door. Raven hears him pull up short as he takes in her small form under the duvet._

_“Shit.” He whispers to himself, sloshing a glass of water down on the bedside table: miscalculating the manoeuvre._

_Maybe, if she lay still enough, he would just think she was asleep. Momentarily, she thinks she might just get away with it. She listens as he dumps his jeans in a heavy heap on the floor and holds in a resentful laugh at his curses when he trips over the heels she’d abandoned in the middle of his floor, bitterly hoping for just such a reaction. When he clambers under the covers behind her, she can feel the way the cold night air clings to his body and her own betrays her with an undeniable shudder. The bed dips as he shuffles closer to her and she sucks in a gasp as he places a freezing hand on her bare shoulder._

_When she’d finally given up her vigil and when her rage had simmered to a low burn, she had stripped out of the new muted rose slip dress she had bought for just this occasion, chosen specifically for its tiny straps and the way it hugged her figure, and thrown it petulantly into her overnight bag. The revealing cut had not left much choice in the way of underwear and, since Raven had opted to forgo her bra and was left only in the smallest pair of lacy lingerie she owned, she had slipped back into her black cami and allowed herself to burrow into the covers._

_Now, though, she feels self-conscious with the amount of skin on show. His fingers burn into the delicate skin on her back and it sends fresh waves of goose pimples across her flesh that she knows has nothing to do with the cold. But she can smell the booze on him as he leans down to whisper her name into her ear and it brings on new feelings of remorse as she reminds herself that, once again, he’s drunk and vulnerable. That they only ever seem to end up here at the end of a drunken night and that no matter how many times they crawl into the comfort of one another’s arms in the safety of the dark that it can’t mean anything until they’re both self-aware of their intentions._

_“Raven?” He whispers again. This time she cuts the act and rolls onto her back to face the ceiling. He rests his chill nose in the warm crease of her shoulder, where her arm is pressed rigidly into her sides. She closes her eyes at the gesture. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” His hot breath leaves a sheen of condensation on her skin that prickles in the cool air. “Please don’t be mad with me.”_

_Raven presses her lips together at the desperation in his voice. He sounds younger but she knows it’s just the alcohol talking. “Where were you?” She whispers back, even though she already knows what the answer will be._

_Murphy hesitates. “I forgot about the movie.”_ And my dinner _, Raven thinks, her emptiness more consuming than just the gnawing in her unfed stomach. “They wanted me to go with them. They wanted me to go, Raven.”_

_A confession. Apologetic but full of excuses nonetheless. The lads at work had taken him out up the clubs yet again: the third time in as many weeks. It’s not like they never snuck into bars, she isn’t a hypocrite, but it’s starting to become a thing and Raven can feel the nerves starting to creep in. The guys at the restaurant are a few years older than them, old enough to know better than to lure him astray: plying him with drinks until he can’t stand straight. They laugh when they bring him back, later and later, and every time he’s a state. She’s told him before what she thinks but he shrugs it off. It doesn’t stop her from trying again._

_“How much have you had to drink?” She asks._

_Murphy rolls away from her so that they’re both lying on their backs: Raven taut with tension and Murphy liquified with inebriation. “It’s go hard or go home, right?” He sniggers, but Raven is far from amused._

_“I wish you’d just come home.” She admits softly, her voice hiding in the shadows._

_She can feel him bristle at the statement and he takes a deep breath before propping himself up on his elbow to reel off his usual spiel. How he needs to get in with the crowd so that he can become a proper part of the team, so that he looks like he’s trying to integrate. He throws himself churlishly back down onto the bed. “Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” His sharp tongue slices through her stern facade and, if she’s not careful, the evidence of his injury threatens to cascade over the precipice of her lower eyelids. “I’m just trying to build a better life.”_

_“It’s not a better life if you keep making the same mistakes, if you don’t learn from the past.” She counters, turning her head briefly to search for him in the darkness before addressing the ceiling once more. “Didn’t we talk about this? I’m worried about you.”_

_“I can’t understand why you don’t want me to have this. These friends-”_

_“They’re no good for you, Murphy. They’re not your friends. You’re chasing the approval of people who don’t respect you or where you’ve come from.” She laments. “There was a time when I was enough for you - when you didn’t need anyone else because we were one and the same. Just us against the world.”_

_Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s selfish to want that, to stay the same forever. It’s not that she doesn’t want him to have anyone else. She wants him to have everything he ever wanted and more. But not like this. He never cared what anyone else thought, because he had her. And she loved him for what he was. For the first time in his life, someone acknowledged his many flaws and loved him anyway. And if she could do it, then why couldn’t someone else? But now… now he seems to have lost sight of that. And it’s dangerous._

_“You are enough.” He whispers thickly._

_Raven trembles, partly from the cold but mostly from the pent up energy that courses through her frozen body. She swallows carefully while she considers her response. “I’m not so sure of that anymore.”_

_She rolls away from him, curling up on her side, knees tucked up almost to her chest. Murphy continues to stare at the ceiling for a while, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He closes his eyes and tries to will the words into existence, anything to resolve the mess he currently finds himself in, but the darkness spins and lurches beneath him and he knows he won’t be able to hold on this time. The tears flow freely down his cheeks and Raven pretends she can’t hear the quiet sniffs that come from his side of the bed._

_When he rolls over to hold her, wet apology mumbled into her hair, he plants a soft kiss on her bare shoulder and rests his face in the crook of her neck. His hands are warmer now and his fingers knead their way under her cami to clutch at her stomach. Every breath leaves her skin rippling as he nuzzles closer into the soft, sensitive flesh where the base of her neck joins her shoulder and his lips catch sensually as he apologises again and again. She knows that whatever he says now he’ll never remember it in the morning and that, for so many reasons, she won’t let this get out of hand tonight, but his naked chest is pressed desperately up against her back and when he brings his legs up to slot in gently with hers she knows that they were made to fit this way: together._

_His agile fingers creep further along her abdomen and pull her closer into his body, his obvious desire hot and damp through the sheer lace of her underwear. It grows and presses, unyielding, against her body and when he whispers a final apology behind her ear she can’t help the way she leans into him. He’s drunk and it’s intimate but she can't bring herself to pull away, even though she knows she should._

* * *

Murphy wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him when he burst out of Raven’s apartment and stormed off across the car park. He was still twitching with adrenaline as he let his feet carry him on autopilot down to the main road, with no discernible plan except to put as much distance between himself and his muddled feelings as humanly possible. Sparking up a cigarette, Murphy wallowed in the heady rush that flooded his brain with that first, desperate drag. With each subsequent lungful, he felt his irate temper mellow but he found that he couldn’t shift it entirely. It lingered ominously in his joints and he felt it crack and fester in each minute movement: the crick of his neck that accompanied each intrusive urge; the flick of his fingers as he discarded his spent butts; the tick and set of his jaw. 

The argument was still reeling on a loop in his head when Murphy was, quite literally, knocked out of his own thoughts. Face down, eyes firmly latched onto his own boots, Murphy collided with the narrow shoulders of a cute set of kitten heels. Not that he cared either way because he was just about ready to yell at them to watch where the hell they were going, despite knowing he was the one staring at the concrete, when they grabbed him by the elbow in an awkward little side-step. 

“Easy, tiger. How’s about keeping your eyes up?” Murphy jerked his sleeve out of her grasp and was horrified to recognise the syrupy voice.

“Stella,” he started, shucking his jacket back into place from where she’d pulled on it. Thank fuck he hadn’t shouted in her face like he wanted to. He really didn’t need to piss off anyone else right now. 

“Hey, it’s fine, really. No need to apologise.” She ribbed him good-naturedly. When Murphy continued to stare at her like he wasn’t sure where she’d come from, her brow creased into a small frown. “You ok, there? You look a bit spaced out.”

“Yeh. Yeh, I’m fine.” Murphy shook his head. He looked up at the shop frontages and wondered when he’d managed to find his way down to the high street. Stella had gone back to smiling at him. He wasn’t sure where she was going but she definitely hadn’t come from work in that checked mini-dress with her face all done up to the nines. 

“You wanna talk about it?” She asked, rearranging the strap on a small cross body bag that didn’t look big enough to hold anything of great importance. Murphy still didn’t know exactly what had happened and, before he could fob her off and carry on his way, Stella filled the empty silence for him. “Look, you seem like you’ve had as good a night as me which, FYI, has been pretty disastrous so far. So, what’s say I tell you about my awful blind date and you laugh and tell me all about how it could be so much worse.” 

Murphy was pretty sure he never agreed to it, but somehow he found himself arm in arm with Stella as she rabbited on about how she’d been stood up by some weirdo Katie set her up with. She was obviously fishing as she moaned about just how unattractive Katie must have made her seem if he couldn’t even be bothered to turn up and see what the fuss was about, but Murphy wasn’t biting. He’d never been good at complimenting women and, as much as he could objectively appreciate the blonde hair and the long legs, Stella just really didn’t do it for him and there was no way he was going to the trouble of feeding her ego. They strolled awkwardly down the high street, Stella trying to match his longer strides while he made zero effort to compensate, before she made an irritating squeal and dragged him into the same pretentious bar she’d conned him into the night she offered him a job.

“Come on.” She purred, her arm still linked through his and her other hand pressed against his shoulder. “I could do with a stiff one, couldn’t you?”

The way she smiled at him was practically predatory, her cardinal lips sinful. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and, despite the fact that he had no interest in her whatsoever, Murphy found himself suffocating the little voice in the back of his brain as it screamed at him to cut his losses and leave while he still had the chance. He’d held out long enough and a fat lot of good it’d done him so far. He was a grown man and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. And right now, he wanted a drink.

* * *

The majority of the night he had spent his time ranting about Raven and Clarke, but Stella didn’t really seem to notice. She nodded and sighed and cried abject outrage in all the right places but in reality all she’d actively done was shoot him doe eyes and sneak her bar stool closer to his all night until she was practically sat in his lap. 

Not that he was all that bothered. She’d paid for the lion’s share of their drinks and he was happy to receive. He downed the last of his bottle of beer and called for another round of shots. Stella giggled in that irritating way he assumed she thought was enticing and fawned all over him while she ran her tongue around the rim of her own bottle. It might have been sexy if they weren’t both already pretty drunk, but as it stood she just looked a bit desperate. Once the barman had lined up Murphy’s round of shots, he picked up two and pushed one into Stella’s free hand, which had been inching closer to his thigh for the last five minutes. She clinked it with his own, flashing him a hazy smile, and pulled a face as she choked it back. The little splutter she made as she slammed the empty shot down on the bar made him smile despite himself and when he knocked back two of his own in succession without a wince she nodded at him, impressed. 

He was about to go for the third when she piped up again. “So you think it’s over then.”

It wasn’t so much a question, but it confused him all the same. “What?”

“You and Raven.” She ran a finger round the sticky rim of her empty shot glass, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. “You think it’s over.”

“There’s nothing to be over, we’re just…” Murphy hesitated. “We’re just roommates.” He decided. He’d been economical with the truth all evening: there were some things she just didn’t need to know. 

“So what’s the deal then?” Stella fixed him with a determined gaze. 

The sudden interrogation was starting to irritate him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, if she’s just your roommate, why do you care? She doesn’t matter-”

“It does matter.” He ground out, slinging back the last shot on the bar. “She’s my- friend. She’s meant to have my back. She’s meant to trust me. Not stand there and let that bitch rip into me for no good fucking reason.” 

“Maybe you need to find a better roommate.” Stella placed her hand on his thigh and he watched as she ran a finger down the inside seam. He couldn’t feel it and the visual did nothing to arouse his interest. She was clearly hitting on him and while he refused to return her advances he didn’t tell her to back off either. Really, he should leave. But he’s not done drowning his conscience just yet.

* * *

The enormity of the shitfest he’d got himself into hit him like a steamroller when the barman rang out last orders. He’d lost count of how many beers he’d sunk and the rows of dead shots littered the bar like gravestones. Each peal of the barman’s bell echoed in his buzzing ears like a death-knell to any chance he had at pulling things back around when he found his way home.

Home. Was that what it was now?

_Shit_. She was going to kill him. Or worse yet, she wouldn’t give a toss. He was gone, though, and that was a fact. She wouldn’t stand for this. He could hear her giving him hell already: his clothes out in the hallway, the sting of her palm against his cheek, the chain on the door. What the fuck had he done?

Stella gripped his elbow enthusiastically, whispering into his ear about a cab, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He stood abruptly from his stool, knocking it away with a scrape, and backed into an unsuspecting waitress, knocking a tray of half empty glasses to the floor. Stella covered her mouth with her hands but let out a shocked laugh anyway. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away, slurring an apology at the alarmed waitress.

“I think he’s a bit tipsy.” She giggled. 

Murphy ran his hands through his hair in despair. Tipsy? He was fucking bladdered. He ripped his hand unceremoniously from Stella’s and clumsily pushed his way out onto the street, knocking over a couple of chairs on his way. His breath hung in clouds as he panted, trying desperately to regain some ounce of self control, but it was too late for that now. The numbness had set in and he couldn’t feel his face or his fingers, but the churning in his stomach was all too real, whether from the booze or the fear of what Raven was going to say to him when he got back he couldn’t be sure. 

Appearing beside him, Stella nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Well, I think somebody had a good night. I didn’t realise how much you could put away...” 

How could she possibly still think this was a good night out? Murphy was still gulping in the cold night air. He was hot, too hot. He could feel it rolling over him in waves. The sweat was starting to pool in the back of his shirt and the closer she got the hotter it made him. He must have started babbling to himself because then she was offering him a place to stay. Insisting. 

“Why don’t you come back to mine? Give her the night to cool off. Go back and get your things in the morning…” 

Absolutely not. No way. _I need to get back_ , he thought, _I’ve got to get back_.

“I think that’s our cab…” Murphy heard her say, clattering off towards the kerb in her silly little shoes, but he couldn't see her because he’d got his eyes pressed tightly shut while he swallowed down the acid that crept threateningly up the back of his throat. 

He forced his breaths through his nose in desperation as he tried to hold down the violent urge to gag, his abdomen clenching wildly as it attempted to expel the copious toxins putrefying in his gut. Just when he thought he might have beaten it back down, though, Stella grabbed his hand again and pulled him out of his distressed meditation. The lights from the taxi blinded him and, as he staggered towards the open door, the movement unsettled the bitter pool in his stomach. He stumbled forward, gripping the handle as he hunched over the gutter in agony and humiliation. The moment he hung his head over the kerb, the weight in his head pressed painfully against his eyes and he projected the contents of his stomach into the gutter. Stella let out a squeal as it splattered up the white trim of the cab, the force spraying his shoes in the process. 

Murphy gagged and retched as the stench of the acrid drains mixed with his vomit to form a potent concoction and he spat out the remnants of bile and saliva that still pooled in his mouth. The driver reached back, swearing at him, and wrenched the door shut before speeding off without them, leaving Murphy to teeter on the edge of the kerb. 

“Guess we’re walking back, then.” Stella quipped, somehow now amused by his performance and not the least put off by his regurgitating display. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Stella propped him up the bus stop and returned ten minutes later with a couple bottles of water and a packet of mints. She handed him a bottle to drink, instructing him to take little sips, before taking the other and dousing the sick off his shoes. Stella ripped open the mints and stuffed a couple in her own mouth before waving the packet at Murphy. He pulled a face as he swilled a mouthful of water round the back of his teeth and spat it out into the road. 

“Gotta taste better than whatever you’ve got going on right now.” She joked. Murphy relented and sucked cautiously on the sweet. “Come on. Let’s get you back to her majesty’s.”

* * *

Even though her eyes had been closed for hours now, Raven hadn’t slept a wink. She’d lain stock still, fully dressed in the dark since Murphy stormed out and replayed her stupid, stubborn responses over and over in her head. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Maybe that was it: maybe he would never come back now. After the palava today, maybe that was for the best. Except she knew that wasn’t what she wanted. Or at least it hadn’t been until this afternoon.

A loud thump against the front door brought her back to reality. She sat up gingerly and listened intently to the unsuccessful scraping of the key against the lock and her heart jumped at the thought that he’d actually come back. The concern that welled in her stomach that he didn’t have enough about him to find the keyhole was eclipsed briefly by sheer relief. The momentary flare of reassurance at his return, however, was doused at the muffled giggles that carried through the living room as the key finally rattled in the lock. 

Raven got stiffly to her feet, limping over to press her ear against the bedroom door. She’d not bothered to take her brace off but the tense position she had lain in had caused her joints to seize and she grimaced at the ache in her hips and her knee. She frowned at the shushes and stifled giggles and listened as someone dropped a series of things on her floor. Recognising Murphy’s low, rasping tone, Raven winced as he swore and collided with what sounded like the sideboard by the front door. The high, sugary voice that responded caused Raven to seethe and before she could think about what she was going to say she had heaved open the door and stomped her way angrily out into the living room, flicking the light as she rounded on them. 

The scene that greeted her made her stomach lurch. She’d never met Stella but she’d walked past the coffee shop often enough by now to know who she was and it made her throat close up to see the way she had him boxed up the sideboard. She’d got her fingers teasing in the front pockets of his jeans and despite the fact that Murphy had coiled himself as far away as possible, his head turned to the side and his little fists held up impotently by his shoulders, she was still trying to whisper seductively into his ear and it made her skin crawl.

“What the fuck is going on?” Raven demanded. For a second it seemed to break the spell and Stella shot her a filthy look. If it had been any other night, Raven might have been amused by the way Murphy’s eyes lit up at the realisation someone might actually drag Stella away from him but, for now, it was all she could do not to lay into him.

Stella pulled away from Murphy’s rigid body but she kept her fingers possessively in his pockets. It was clear that she was appraising Raven from where she stood jealously in front of him and Raven didn’t miss the way her gaze hovered over her leg. She had dumped her belongings on the floor in front of the door, a tangled mess consisting of her coat, a bag and a pair of shoes Raven would never be seen dead in. It irked her that she seemed to think she had the right to make herself at home and she wondered just exactly what kind of arrangement they had.

“Well, she’s definitely pretty, I’ll give you that.” Obviously, she was addressing Murphy, but she held Raven’s haughty stare as she continued, red lips curved into a malicious grin. “I’d say I can see what all the fuss is about, but I’m not sure I could look past that hideous strap on.” 

“Get the fuck out of my flat.” Raven wouldn’t dream of giving her the satisfaction of yelling, deliberately keeping her tone cold and stern. 

The last thing Raven expected her to do was laugh it off. Stella tugged Murphy a bit closer and even though he still looked repulsed by the contact, Raven noticed that he seemed too preoccupied and distracted to do anything else about it. _He’s drunk_ , she realised.

“Well, I think that’s Murphy’s choice really, seeing as though I’m his guest.” 

“Murphy gets _zero_ choice in this. _Murphy_ is crashing on my fucking couch like the homeless alcoholic that he is.” Stella’s face dropped and Raven revelled in the advantage, her voice taunting and low and dangerous as Stella retrieved her fingers quickly from his jeans and took a step back. “Oh, you mean he didn’t tell you that bit. Does he suddenly seem less attractive now that he has an addiction? Now that he isn’t just some two dimensional piece of ass in your pretentious, pathetic little coffee shop, hmm? Now that he has some real life problems your stuck up, airhead, bimbo brain thinks that maybe he’s not such a hot ride after all?” Raven delighted in the way Stella’s brain was visibly whirring as she tried to churn out a comeback, but Raven was on a roll. “Pick up your shit, barbie, and leave. Now, before I call the fucking cops.” 

Murphy clutched onto the sideboard as Stella backed up and started yelling at him, feeling safer in the newly acquired space between them. He swayed a little as he watched her snatching her things up from the floor and registered a few choice phrases as she jabbed an angry finger at him: _liar; psycho girlfriend; fired_. Murphy pushed himself away from the sideboard to stand a little straighter. 

And then promptly vomited all over the carpet.

He vaguely registered the slamming of the door but it was the fist in his jacket that jolted him out of his stupor, as Raven dragged him bodily into the bathroom and deposited him roughly on the floor. The ducks on the curtain were literally swimming and he fought down a childish laugh at his own joke. From his heap on the floor, Murphy lifted his head to see just how much trouble he was in, but Raven’s face drifted in and out of focus and he had to squint with the effort of trying to make her stay in one place as she towered over him, arms folded aggressively.

“You leave this bathroom before the morning to vomit on anything else and I’ll fucking castrate you.” 

Left in utter darkness, Murphy crawled blindly into the bathtub before he gave in to the urge to vomit all over himself again, his shoulders heaving with the effort and the dry sobs that wracked his spent body as he purged his stomach and his blighted conscience of his fermented sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all let me apologise because I felt like it had to get worse before it could get better. But equally I am still heading for destination happy murven, but it's a long road so don't give up on me just yet lol! All feedback greatly appreciated, thanks so much for reading :) <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm super nervous about the reaction to this but... are you ready to find out what Murphy did?

_The heavens open when he’s about halfway there and Murphy thinks it’s fucking typical that he’s going to be soaked to the bone when he gets there. He swerves off the curb and into the gutter and just about keeps his balance as he dodges the blinding headlights of an oncoming car, horn screaming at him as he runs his front tyre up the pavement and nearly stacks it over the handlebars. He’s got no lights or reflectors even though Raven has been nagging him for months to sort it out and if he gets flattened now he knows she’ll make sure he lives long enough for her to rub it in his face._

_It’s not the only thing she’s been making noises about though and the penny finally dropped tonight when his so-called mates left him high and dry. When the clubs had finally kicked them out for the night and he’d been left to foot their bar tab even though they knew that, if they asked for it, he couldn’t produce any valid form of ID and he’d be fucked. Never mind the fact that he was bastard broke._

_But they knew that, too. It was all just a game to them. Like she’d been saying all along. And it hurt. It hurt that they could do that to him. It hurt that she had told him. And it hurt that he hadn’t listened, that he had brushed her off in favour of these people he’d known all of five minutes. He didn’t even know why he’d done it._

_Ok, maybe he did. Maybe he’d liked the attention. Maybe it had felt good to be wanted. And maybe it didn’t hurt that they were paying him in booze. But still, he should have known better: he’d been used before. He should have listened to her._

_He swings the bike haphazardly back up onto the pavement and pedals a bit faster, until he can no longer tell if it's the bite of the rain that stings his eyes or the hot tears of embarrassment from being taken in by their lies._ Fucks’ sake _, he thinks, wiping clumsily at his face and narrowly avoiding a flickering lamp post as he lurches towards the curb again. Why was he always crying?_

_By the time he can see the looming outline of Sinclair’s shop, he’s absolutely drenched. His jeans are heavy and each step on the pedals makes his thighs ache with effort. The rain runs in rivulets down his face and off the tip of his nose and he knows that his shoes must be ruined from the way he can feel his toes and his socks squelching. He weaves across the road in a stilted slalom and before he can wobble to a standstill he’s slinging his leg over the saddle and staggering off across the forecourt, the bike crashing to the floor: abandoned._

_He’s not sure what time it is when he starts banging on the back door to the flat. He knows it must be nearly five but the notion does nothing to deter him and he pounds even more furiously on the panelled wood with the flat of his clenched fist. Murphy’s about ready to start yelling up at the window when he sees the light come on at the top of the stairwell and hears Raven’s muted swearing as she thunders down the steps and takes the chain off the door._

_“What the fuck are you playing at, Murphy?” She’d practically yanked it off its hinges once she’d finished unbolting the various locks but, despite the fact that she is clearly enraged, wielding a hefty looking wrench that she may or may not still hit him with, Murphy can’t help but throw himself through the open doorway at her. Clinging desperately to her shoulders, Murphy takes a series of great, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm himself down now that she’s finally answered the door but it’s not working._

_Raven stands still for a moment as she takes in the mess before her and it only takes a couple of seconds for her anger to be swallowed by worry. Dropping the socket wrench that she had grabbed instinctively on hearing the commotion at the door, she throws an arm around Murphy’s waist and hauls him in out of the rain, shutting the door with her free hand before clasping the back of his dripping head while he shakes and mumbles into her sleep-shirt._

_“Hey,” she shushes and coos at him. “What is this?” She pulls back and places a careful hand on his cheek to look him over. “What the hell is going on?”_

_He’s dithering now and it does nothing to add meaning to his blabbering as he repeats the same broken phrases over and over again. “I don’t want to do this anymore… I’m sorry I didn’t-... I just want-...”_

_“Ok, ok.” She tries, but he’s gulping for air now and if he doesn’t stop soon he’ll be hyperventilating on her staircase. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”_

_His sodden clothes are plastered to his body and so she helps him strip out of them, handing him a towel and some clean bottoms and a shirt he’d left in her washing a few weeks before. She leaves him to change, throwing his saturated things in the washer and returning with a couple of mugs of coffee. When she peeks round the bedroom door, he’s dressed and sitting with his head in his hands, bouncing his knees in that nervous way he has. He looks up at her with bloodshot eyes as she pads in and presses the warm mug into his hands. It looks as though it might set him off again but he manages to absorb the tears back into his watery eyes and twitches an embarrassed smile at her in thanks._

_Raven perches on the edge of her bed, the warmth and comfort that had been generated by her sleeping body now slowly seeping away to be replaced by sullen disappointment as Murphy recounts the night’s events. Although she feels angry for him, there’s still a good deal of anger towards him too: at the way he’s treated her over the past few weeks and how, now it’s all come crashing down around him, he’s come crawling back with his tail between his legs._

_But she knows she won’t stay mad for too long. He looks utterly miserable and she can’t stand it. He’s made mistakes but, at the end of the day, he’s still Murphy. He’s still the kid who waited in the rain for her, who went dancing with her even though he hated it. The kid she taught to ride a bike, who let her bully him into painting his flat. The kid who stood up for her in the forecourt and took a beating to keep her safe. He was still all those things and more._

_When he’s done, they sit in silence for a little while. Murphy finishes his coffee and Raven takes the mug from his shaking hand and places it on the nightstand next to her own. She shuffles back until she’s resting up against the pillows and the headboard, tucking her feet back under the duvet and pulling her crumpled, tear-stained sleep-shirt down as far as it will go over her thighs, which regrettably isn’t particularly far at all. When he makes no effort to move, Raven leans forward and entwines her fingers with his own, pulling tentatively at them to encourage him to lie down next to her. He hesitates before crawling awkwardly over the covers and settling himself down on her left side._

_Raven runs a hand soothingly through his damp hair and Murphy lets himself relax into her touch, curling further into her until his head rests in her lap. Once he seems to have settled, his breathing more measured and heavy, reminiscent of sleep, Raven leans over to turn the lamp off on the bedside unit. He stays quiet long enough that she thinks he’s probably dropped off but, just when she thinks she might be able to get back to sleep herself, he stirs._

_“Do you think it’s too late?” He whispers, his voice cloying in the back of his throat, catching on the remnants of his heavy night and half a pack of sovereigns, no doubt._

_Raven curls a stray lock of hair at his bedraggled nape lazily around her index finger. “Too late for what?” She asks sleepily, fighting off a yawn._

_Murphy pauses. He wants to say: the shit at the restaurant, the drinking, us. But he doesn’t. Instead he just breathes out: “Everything.”_

_Even though she’s got no idea what he’s talking about, Raven answers him with clarity. “It’s never too late.”_

_Maybe it’s her answer, or more likely it’s the drink still coursing through his veins, that makes him brave when he draws up his hand to play delicately with the hem of her shirt. His fingers skim lightly over the inviting warmth of her thigh and her stomach drops a little at the sensation. She feels him smirk against her in amusement as he fingers the material and she tugs it down self consciously once more._

_“What are you even wearing anyway, Reyes?” He snorts quietly. It’s a trick question, really. He knows exactly what this is._

_Predictably, she ignores his question and answers a different one he never asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.”_

_She feels him laugh more than she hears it, the quiet rumble in his chest that vibrates through his throat where it’s pressed against her thigh. If he’s pretending not to recognise it, then she’ll never admit out loud that she’s kept a stolen shirt tucked in the bottom of her chest of drawers for months now, specifically for lonely nights such as these. She’s wrapped herself in it so many nights now that the neck gapes and it smells more like her own body than his. It’s soft and worn, no longer holding any kind of shape, but she doesn’t care._

_Sleep must finally take him because he says no more. When she can keep her eyes open no longer, she gives in to the urge to scoot down the bed to lie in a more comfortable position and pats down the bed to reach for the duvet, pulling the covers up around Murphy’s shoulders and allowing herself to imagine that one day he might come to her without a belly full of liquor and misery._

* * *

_It’s not really sleeping, more dozing in and out of consciousness. He’s too wired to sleep properly. The times when he does close his eyes the alcohol fuels a dizzying carnival of thoughts and feelings that he can’t quite grab hold of and he finds himself awake again: no better rested and no less tanked than he was when he crawled into her arms less than two hours ago._

_This time, when he opens his bleary eyes, he’s no longer nestled in her lap. He wakes with his nose pressed firmly under the soft swell of her breasts, his shirt having ridden up to reveal more enticing flesh than he’s ever dreamed of as she moved in the night. He swallows a groan at the thought of being so close, knowing that if he only twisted his head just so he’d have his lips unintentionally pressed against her in some kind of scene straight out of one of his wildest fantasies._

_Raven shifts in her sleep and drops her hand from where it had been tangled in his hair to rest along his back. Murphy becomes aware of his own limbs wrapped up in hers, so that he has to concentrate to decipher where he ends and where she begins. He’s already got a hand thrown over her hip and for a moment he allows himself to imagine how it got there, how it had traveled of its own volition up her body, and he finds that it’s almost impossible not to caress a thumb over the inviting curves._

_It doesn’t seem to disturb her or distress her in any way and, even though the only rational part of his pickled brain knows she’s sleeping, he wonders whether maybe this is the sign he’s been waiting for. She continues to welcome him into her bed and, although she has never expressed any explicit desire for him, she has never pushed him away either. There is no doubt in his mind that she is strong willed enough that, if he had overstepped any physical boundaries with his drunken embraces, she would have put him in his place by now._ Not to mention _, the equally intoxicated little voice in his head reasons,_ that she’s wrapped up in just your shirt and clearly has been for some time.

_For a few brief seconds, Murphy allows himself to entertain the idea that maybe she wants this as much as he does. Perhaps they are both too stubborn and stupid to see it. Perhaps he would only ever be brave enough in this moment, in this purgatory between complete insobriety and unconsciousness, to take the leap of faith and find out. The slurred voice in the recess of his mind goads him further and as he pulls away slightly to commit the image of her sleeping face to memory, so much softer than it seems during the day, relaxed and unburdened, full lips parted with the content breaths of sleep, Murphy knows that it’s now or never. And never just isn’t an option anymore._

_Murphy tentatively shimmies a bit further up the bed until he’s nose to nose with Raven on her pillow, trailing his hand a little further up her body to rest delicately along her ribs. There’s a flicker of doubt that creeps fleetingly across the forefront of his mind but he quickly represses it in favour of the newly blossoming fantasies about what the future might hold for them if he’s right about this._

_He knows he’s kissed her before, brief brushes of his lips against her skin as he held onto her or whispered apologies, begged forgiveness. Happy accidents that he can’t bring himself to regret. But they were not real. Merely poor imitations of something much more momentous._

_Tucking a stray wisp of hair back behind her ear, Murphy allows himself to linger there, fingers ensconced in the soft waves of her untamed bedhead. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. He can’t lie to himself any longer. She’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted. Temptation seizes him and he brushes her dark locks over her back. The neck of his shirt still gapes, leaving her throat and her shoulder bare, and it’s mesmerising._

_“Rey,” he whispers, running a reverent finger across her jaw. “Rey.”_

_There’s movement behind her eyelids, a flutter of lashes that suggest she’s heard him even though she’s not really awake. She flexes the hand at his back slightly and nuzzles her face further into the pillows. “It’s not time; go back to sleep.” She mumbles._

_But he can’t, not now that he’s made up his mind. Murphy leans in closer so that his forehead is nestled against her neck and whispers her name again. She hums something unintelligible in response and it vibrates through her throat against his lips and he can’t help but press a tender kiss to the exposed flesh in response._

_It’s cautious at first, soft, pliant lips against her warm, delicate skin. But with each whisper of her name they grow firmer, more insistent, until he’s kissed his way along her throat and up into that sensitive spot behind her ear. Even though she still has her eyes closed, she sighs breathily into his ear and it’s driving him crazy that she’s not fully awake yet._

_“Wake up, Reyes.” He breathes into her ear, giving in to the urge to suck gently on the lobe, revelling in the prickle of goose flesh that shudders along her arms when he runs his teeth lightly across her skin. “I have something I need to tell you.”_

_Murphy thinks it might just be a miracle when he feels her lean further into him and he wraps his arm firmly around her waist to pull her closer. Nibbling his way along her jaw, he draws a series of soft sighs from her. It makes his spinning mind whir faster to hear her make them and, when he reaches her chin, he knows there’s no going back as he leans up to place a fragile kiss at the edge of her full mouth._

* * *

_It’s his lips on hers that truly pull her from her sleep._

_She’d heard her name in hushed tones and subconsciously complained about the early hour, but then she had promptly attempted to re-enter a particularly lucid dream she’d been having before the real Murphy started disturbing her with his whispers. She was pleasantly surprised to find that it didn’t take very long at all and basked in the sensual trails he left along her throat that somehow felt even more vivid than before._

_Perhaps if she wasn’t quite so focused on the way her senses lit up at every imaginary kiss he planted on her aching body, she might have had the decency to be embarrassed at the hitches in her breath and the involuntary sighs she gasped out in that strange place between sleep and reality, where her mind was content to trick her body into a heightened state of lust and wanton desires._

_But when his insistent lips find the corner of her desperate mouth, less sure somehow than they were before, she can no longer fool herself. The hot heat of his breath as he whispers to her a final time demands her full attention and, with trepidation at what she might truly find, she blinks away the last vestiges of sleep. Raven gazes at him with hazy eyes that flicker with the shadows of self doubt and bewilderment as she tries to quell the disbelief that rises within her: he’d really been kissing her all along._

_It’s as though she’s hit the pause button. He lingers tantalisingly close as he waits for her to make the next move, waiting to see whether he’s totally fucked it or whether she’s going to give herself over to him. She doesn’t know for sure which one it’s going to be even now, her mind a mess of different voices all clamouring for her attention as she drops her gaze to his parted mouth, soft and inviting in a way that she hasn’t allowed herself to wonder about for too long for fear that she might cross over that ill-defined boundary they’ve drawn between themselves. She’s wrapped tightly in his embrace and she can feel the way he’s shaking against her, uncertain if it's the booze or the sheer excitement and incredulity that they’re really doing this, that she hasn’t pushed him away yet._

_For a moment, she wants to go with it. There’s this mounting pressure inside her that wants nothing more than to open up and let him in. And he must see it, somehow, in her eyes or her face, or maybe he can feel it in the way her heart pounds desperately against her chest, because he’s pulling her impossibly closer and leaning in to capture her lips with his own. And maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s his hot body pressed up against her own, their legs a tangle of limbs between the sheets and his hands solid and warm against her back, but she thinks she might just let him take control. Then he’s parting her lips and she’s letting him in to run his tongue along her own and it’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, the delicate way he explores and retreats and seeks to deepen the kiss._

_Until that scathing voice inside her head drags her back from his heady spell. Until she tastes the stale smoke and the bitter tang of booze and remembers that the only reason he’s here is because he’s drunk and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to pull away. The second she freezes, she can see the fear set in his eyes and suddenly he’s scrambling away from her like he can’t put enough distance between them._

* * *

_Shit._

_Shit... shit, shit! He’s got it all wrong. How can he have got it so wrong?_

_He’s halfway out of the bed but his limbs feel disconnected from his body and his lack of coordination leaves him flailing in the sticky sheets as he tries to peel himself away, tumbling to his knees while he tries to heave his sweaty, shivering body out of her reach. His head is swimming, the last rush of endorphins being sapped from his throbbing brain by the knowledge that he got carried away, that he pushed it too far._

_Murphy stumbles over the knotted sheets, one foot caught in the trailing material as he staggers desperately towards the bedroom door, reaching blindly for his sodden shoes. It’s entirely possible that he might die of embarrassment before he can get them on, forcing his toes in and treading down the backs with his heels as he attempts to make a run for it. He can hear Raven calling out to him and vaguely registers the creak of the bed and her hurried footsteps as she follows him out into the living room, but the blood is thundering in his ears and he can’t get a grip on the words through the static. He’s not sure he really wants to._

_“Murphy, will you just wait!” She’s calling but he’s tearing through the living room like a man possessed. He’s still too hot and he can feel his shirt sticking to his skin as he rifles messily through the drawers in the sideboard in the hopes of finding his wallet and keys. His face is burning up with every second that passes and the more he panics, the more he can feel the churning sickness returning: hot humiliation and shame curdling in the toxic acid of his liquor laden stomach._

_When she lays a hand on the blazing skin of his arm, he jerks away as though she has branded him. Murphy backs away in a state of agitation, clawing hopelessly at his scalp and tugging at the roots of his hair until the pain outweighs the devastating nausea that threatens to cripple him right there and then on the living room floor._

_“Murphy-”_

_“Just stop!” He shouts at her, pressing a balled fist painfully into his temple as he tries to understand just how he went from being blissfully wrapped up in her responsive body to this. “Just stop. Stop it.” He’s pleading with her now, begging. He doesn’t want to hear it. The pity, the sympathy, the ‘it’s not you it’s me’. ‘We’re better off as friends’._

_Raven’s eyes are wild as she tries to take in the sudden outburst. For a moment he wonders what he must look like to her. There’s a flash of fear behind her eyes and he doesn’t miss the watery glaze they’ve taken on as they flick nervously across his face. But it only makes him more angry to see it. It fills him with a sense of outrage; the injustice of it all is overwhelming, that she could draw him in so completely just to throw it all back in his face._

_“Please, just listen, Murphy. It’s ok, it-”_

_She’s making like she’s going to reach for him again and he slaps away her outstretched hand without even thinking. “No! No, it’s not ok. How can you say that?” He’s back to searching for his keys and his fingers tremble over the sideboard. He curses loudly when he knocks a series of picture frames to the floor with a crash._

_“Murphy, can we just talk about this? I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I just thought-”_

_“But you didn’t, did you?” He rounds on her then. His voice breaking as he yells at her. “Do you ever think about what you’re doing to me? Why do you do it? You turn up out of the blue, you’re in my flat, in my clothes, in my bed! You’ve been leading me on for months. All the touching and the flirting and the goddamn underwear.” Murphy barks out a bitter laugh. “Don’t get me started on the fucking underwear you’ve been prancing around in. Is it some kind of sick joke to you? What, lead me on, see just how far you can take it before you put me straight back in my place, is that it?”_

_Ravens mouth bobs slightly and if he wasn’t so enraged right now it would be comical. He thinks she might actually start crying but the vicious, jaded monster inside him has taken over and he can’t stop himself from lashing out. “If you didn’t want me you could have just left me the fuck alone. Don’t tell me, that’s just what friends do, right? How many other beds have you been slipping into. Maybe you’ve been warming Collins’ up at night too-”_

_Murphy hears it before he feels it. The crack of her palm rings loud in the dingy light that pools into the living room and he can feel the blood start to bloom in his cheek, the sting radiating across his burning flesh. Raven’s chest heaves as she struggles to contain an ugly sob but he’s gone too far and he’s too stubborn to back down now. He’s ready to spit out another barb when she smacks him again._

_“You came to me.” She hisses. “You came crawling to me, just like you always do. When you’ve ruined everything and pushed everyone else away, it’s always me picking up the pieces. Maybe if for once in your useless life you came to me first, maybe then-”_

_“What? Maybe then you’d magically develop some feelings for me? Somehow, it’d all be different? Get real, Raven. You’ve never wanted me. You will never want me.” Murphy lets out a cry of frustration and pounds his fist against the sideboard, before turning back to face her. “You know, Wick was right.”_

_It’s a low blow and he knows it. But he’s there now and it’s all just spewing out of him and there’s no holding it back. Raven’s face is set, cold and vacant as he yells at her._

_“That’s all I’ve ever been to you, isn’t it? Just some cheap project. A fixer-upper from somewhere even further down shit creek than you were. If you can fix me, you can fix anything, right? And now that I’m all fixed up, you’re just not interested anymore. I mean, fuck, maybe you never were. Maybe it was just a show all along.”_

_Raven chokes out a bitter laugh. The sound grates and he gets ready for whatever retort she’s about to hurl at him next. She shakes her head and casts her eyes over his swaying form, eyes red-rimmed from all the crying and the copious shots of vodka at the bar. She doesn’t yell back at him. Her voice is low and dangerous._

_“Well, what a failure I must be then, because you sure as hell aren’t fixed. Congratulations. You’ve turned into the disappointment you always thought you’d be.” Murphy curls his mouth up into a sneer. “Thank you. Thank you for proving once again that other people only ever let you down and for teaching me never to trust someone else to have your back because they’re only ever looking out for themselves.”_

_“Well, you’d know all about that.”_

_“Get out.” Raven can feel the tears spill onto her cheeks and her voice wavers momentarily before she plucks up the courage to shout louder. “Get the fuck out. Just go. If that’s how you really feel. Leave.”_

_“Gladly.” He spits at her._

_Raven runs an exasperated hand through her wild hair and clasps her forehead in despair. Turning back to stare into the dimly lit bedroom, she’s totally unable to reconcile those hazy few moments of pleasure with the explosive argument they’ve just been having and the sting of all the impulsive insults they’ve thrown at each other. Behind her she hears the scrape and jangle as Murphy recovers his keys and slams the door behind him, without so much as a sarcastic comment. He doesn’t need to. He’s already had the last word._

_As she lets out a measured breath, Raven turns back to inspect the damage from where he’s been turning the flat upside down to find his keys. She’s sure she left them on the coffee table earlier and it riles her that he’s made such a mess of her sideboard in his pointless, rage fuelled craze. It’s only then, as she gently picks up the shattered picture frames from the threadbare carpet, that she notices. Eyes level with the cheap, water stained surface, she catches sight of them._

_His wallet. His keys._

_Raven reaches out and turns the familiar leather key ring over in her delicate fingers, confusion etched on her brow. She stands abruptly, eyes searching the sideboard wildly. She’d heard him take them. Except she can’t have, not if they are still here._

_There’s a dull thud, the sound dampened by the beating rain and the literal and metaphorical walls that stand between them. Horror overcomes her at the realisation. And then she’s running._

_Because he’s only seventeen._

_And he doesn’t have a license._

_And he’s still fucking drunk._

* * *

_Murphy swears at the cough and splutter of inexperience as his finger slips on the key and the ignition fails. They tremble a little more when he cocks it up on the next try, but the third time’s the charm and the engine roars into life: loud and angry in the bleak and lonely dawn._

_Even though he’s never bothered to get his license, a pointless endeavour when he couldn’t actually afford a car even if he wanted to, Raven had still let him fuck about on the forecourt a few times after hours. He hadn’t been particularly skilful then either but it hadn’t deterred him when the notion struck him as he stormed out of the flat. Murphy’s not sure exactly what made him grab the keys off the sideboard. Maybe it was the inability to find his own or maybe it was his sheer desperation to leave as quickly as possible._

_Regardless, he’s done it now and he’s too irrational and unreasonable right at this moment to admit that he’s made an horrendous mistake. As he rams it into reverse, Murphy sends up a slurred prayer to whatever vehicular gods are listening that Raven had never got around to buying that damn manual Jeep she’d been harping on about._

_Murphy stamps on the gas with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop, wrenching on the steering wheel to swing the car around ready to tear off across the forecourt. He lets out a string of curses as he is jolted suddenly out of his seat, an ear splitting screech grating in his ears as he grinds something cumbersome and metallic across the tarmac. When he shifts shoddily up into drive and lurches back over the offending obstacle, something in the back of his mind pipes up to let him know he’s probably just destroyed his bike and he grimaces guiltily at the thought._

_If he takes the time to really observe his surroundings, Murphy might notice the way the security light flickers on as he stands on the gas once again, wheels spinning as he loses traction on the flooded forecourt._

_He might notice the yelling over the roaring in his own ears and the beating of the rain on the windscreen that obscures his vision in great sheets as he fails to find the wipers._

_He might notice Raven as she runs towards him, arms held up, still dressed in just his shirt. Barefoot. Soaked to the skin._

_And if he notices these things, Murphy will slam on the brakes._

_But he doesn’t._

_Instead, he floors the gas once more to scream across the forecourt, pushing all the buttons on the dashboard and flicking the levers on the steering column as he tries to work out the controls._

_And maybe it’s a coincidence, or maybe it’s something akin to fate, that, when he finally hears that first, harsh beat of the wipers, he looks up in a state of triumphant glee. But as the wipers sweep away the torrents, his drunken pride is immediately replaced with sheer horror as they reveal Raven’s drenched form hurtling towards him._

_The world is silent._

_It can’t last even a second but it feels like a lifetime passes as Murphy tries to will his sluggish brain to send messages faster through his screaming nerves to make this stop. But it’s already happening and it’s all he can do to find the brake and wait for the inevitable as he ploughs into her._

_He doesn’t hear it when the bumper throws her body over the hood of her car. It’s the noise her head makes as it collides with the windscreen that brings the world spinning back into rapid motion and Murphy tries not to vomit at the thud of her limp body as it hits the concrete behind him._

_Raven’s car judders to a halt. The wipers flick swathes of water aggressively to the floor, the sidelights feeble in the darkness. Murphy’s vaguely aware of a pulsating orange glow that must mean, in his drunken assault of the dashboard, he’d turned on the hazards._

_It’s surreal. His body shakes uncontrollably with adrenaline and the atrocity of what he’s done. In the rearview mirror, out of the corner of his eye, Murphy recognises the crumpled shape of her broken body lying motionless, illuminated by the harsh glare of the floodlights. But he can’t bring himself to look at what he’s done and in that moment the flight response takes over and he steels himself to keep driving._

_He gets no more than a couple of streets away before he pulls over. Murphy falls out of the door, disoriented, onto his hands and knees to retch at the side of the road. The shame and the guilt are overwhelming and he thinks he might stop breathing when it dawns on him that he just left her there._

_He drove off and left her. He left her. On the forecourt. In the pouring rain._

_He mowed her down and left her._

__What if she’s dead? _He thinks._ What if she’s not dead? What if she’s lying there bleeding out in agony and I left her and she dies because of me? __

_His legs are moving even before his brain catches up with the idea and he curses the fact that they couldn’t have managed the same feat just minutes earlier. Somewhere along the way he abandons his shoes and then he’s pounding the gritty tarmac with his bare feet, not caring whether it’s gravel or glass that cuts into his soles as he bombs it up the carriageway. His lungs are on fire and he can see the clouds of his spasmodic breaths as he tries to gulp in more air to feed his burning muscles. His hair is plastered to his forehead and it drips continuously into his streaming eyes._

_Instinct takes over and hauls him down a dingy side alley that Murphy soon realises will cut out part of the road and bring him out on the scrap of scrubland opposite the garage. He emerges into the moonlit wasteland and scrambles desperately through the overgrown grass and stinging nettles towards a cluster of trees at the roadside._

_The garage is still lit up but it’s flashing blue now. Murphy hugs the treeline and waits, his eyes searching erratically for any sign of Raven. He’s numb with the cold and the rain by now but more so with the fear that he’s actually killed her. That she’s gone forever. That he found something precious and destroyed it without a second thought. That the last words he said to her were full of spite and anger and lies._

_It doesn’t even occur to him to question who might have called the ambulance but his heart jumps into his throat at the sight of Sinclair appearing from behind the open doors. Wet, dishevelled: bloody. Murphy holds his breath as he waits to see if anyone else will emerge and chokes out a sob at the sight of the stretcher that is rushed into view, draped in blankets, head braced. Sinclair follows her prone form swiftly into the ambulance and the slamming of the door ricochets across the empty forecourt._

_The wailing of the siren draws a guttural howl from Murphy’s aching body. He finally lets his knees give way underneath him and, as the ambulance tears off into the distance, Murphy lets himself clutch desperately to the sound._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I promise this is as bad as it gets... And also this had already happened in the timeline and I'd had this in mind from the get go (unlike some of the other questionable things Murphy has done which just kind of organically manifested themselves along the way) so I feel like we all knew this day was coming... hopefully. 
> 
> I really hope you're sticking with me and that I haven't totally put you off - better days are coming :) Thanks so much for reading if you're still here, it truly means the world <3


	12. Chapter 12

Raven wasn’t sure if the stain and the smell would ever come out or whether it was simply imprinted on her senses and memory in such a way that she would never be able to undo the damage. She dumped the brush sloppily back in the bucket and sat back on her right heel, left leg kicked out to the side, to appraise her handiwork. It would have to do, she decided. The effort to drag her exhausted body upright drew a grimace from her and, since she figured that she wasn’t quite ready to face him just yet, she’d have to make do with emptying the bucket down the kitchen sink. 

Once she had bleached the sink within an inch of its life and the whole kitchen stunk of citrus fresh, Raven allowed herself to settle on the sofa with a steaming mug of coffee. Today was going to be a long day. She’d already phoned Sinclair to tell him she wouldn’t be in for the next few days. By the time he’d established that she was ok and she had managed to prevent him from stopping by to drop in unnecessary groceries, she’d changed her mind and told him to make it the week. There had been an awkward pause that she wasn’t used to, one that they hadn’t had between them since he tried to get the truth out of her at the hospital all those years ago. He wasn’t stupid. He knew something had gone wrong. Raven didn’t argue back when he announced that he would call again after work and that he would be stopping by the following evening. 

Snapshots of their conversation filtered back through the recesses of her mind and somehow it seemed like it should have been more than a handful of weeks ago. _He was good for you once. I get it. But if it comes down to it, you need to learn when to let go. For the both of you._

But she’d done that once before, hadn’t she? Called time on whatever mess it was they’d found themselves in. Clasped her hand over the transmitter to muffle her own sobs as he begged her, pleaded with her. 

_“Don’t do this, Raven, please. Rey… I promise. I’ll sober up. I’ll do anything. Please, just… I’m sorry, Rey, I… I don’t think I can do this on my own… Please, don’t do this.”_

_“I think it’s for the best, Murphy. I just… I don’t think you should call again. I… I’ll call you… when I’m ready.”_

It was strange when she considered it now. Back then, she’d thought she needed time. Time to understand. Time to grieve. She’d lost so much more than just the feeling in one of her legs. But the more she thought about it now, it wasn’t just about space and time to heal. In reality, she realised now that she was never going to be ready. Because she didn’t need any more time: she’d had years now. What she had really needed then was answers. Answers and closure. A way to shut the door on that part of her life and accept that the future would be different now, not the one she’d always seen when she closed her eyes at night. That she would need to start again. 

Raven stared at the cold dregs of coffee at the bottom of her mug and swirled them absently. It was only just turned nine but between the shit night’s sleep and the morning spent scrubbing the floor, Raven felt like she’d waited long enough. There was no putting it off any further. 

Leaving her almost-empty mug on the coffee table, Raven limped purposefully over to the bathroom door and paused to press her ear against the cold wood. All was silent on the other side and for a moment she wondered if she’d made the right call, or whether she might find him lifeless in a pool of his own vomit. Raven blinked away flashes of his snotty confessions: vivid descriptions of a faceless woman, doomed to the same fate, blistering just behind her eyes. 

Cautiously, she opened the door and let the light from the living room spill in, illuminating the sorry scene inside. The haphazard trail of soiled clothing that littered the bathroom floor told a pitiful tale of self-destruction and misery and Raven wrinkled her nose in distaste at the pungent stench of spirit laden beer that hung in the stale air. She scuffed a path clear with a wary toe until she loomed over his comatose form. The bilious pit of anger in her stomach was momentarily diluted by a wave of sorrow as she took in his wretched frame, curled foetally in the unforgiving tub: knees drawn to his chin, one foot pressed rigidly against the cold enamel, fists clasped behind his head. 

Before she could start to feel too sorry for him, though, Raven reached swiftly for the shower head and aimed somewhere between his elbows and his face. The jet was like ice and Murphy immediately let out a horrified gasp as he was wrenched from unconsciousness, floundering briefly in the bottom of the tub as he flailed his arms to try and shield his face. Raven quickly shut off the water as he scrabbled to sit upright without exposing the last of his modesty, one hand protecting his squinting, bloodshot eyes from the light that filtered in through the doorway and the other clenched firmly between his thighs. 

“Wash up and get dressed.” She barked at him as he sat, blinking up at her in a daze. “We need to talk.”

* * *

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was at least scrubbed clean and wearing his pyjamas. Head hung low, and with a generous helping of shame, Murphy shuffled over to sit on the sofa, putting as much distance between the two of them as humanly possible. Raven sat with her face buried in her fists and waited to see if he would make the first move. As the silence stretched on between them and any initiation on his part became increasingly unlikely, Raven drew in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Maybe she should just come clean. And maybe it would be best to start at the beginning.

“I’m sorry that I never called you.” 

Murphy furrowed his brow as he tried to pick up the fragmented conversation. It felt like he’d missed something and he was pretty sure that, whatever was happening here, it was definitely meant to be him apologising, not the other way around.

“Not straight away. But maybe after a couple of months. Not even a call but- I don’t know. Maybe if I’d just sent you a message or _something_. I promised I would and then…” Raven rubbed at her tired eyes with the heel of her hands and pushed back the stray flyaways that had started to curl around her face. “The truth is, I didn’t know what I needed. I just knew that things would never be the same and I didn’t know how the hell to deal with that. I guess I thought I needed some time. Space to process everything.”

Murphy stared incredulously at her from his refuge at the other end of the sofa. His head was hammering and his weak stomach gnawed away at his insides but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was happening. 

“I guess what I really needed was honesty. Fuck, I think we both could have done with a good dose of that. Instead I just sat and festered for a few months and then stomped it all down into some angry little box in the back of my head and hoped it would somehow just stop mattering one day.” Raven bared her teeth in an uncomfortable grimace, scratching at a mark on the arm of the sofa with her nail. “Fucking ridiculous.” She mumbled to herself. 

“I ruined your life, Raven.” Murphy whispered into the aching silence that had settled between them. “You don’t owe me anything-”

“But I owed it to me.” She interrupted him. “I owed it to me to find out what the fuck was going on. To know why the hell this all went so wrong.”

Murphy trained his gaze on the mug that lay abandoned on the coffee table. The world felt fluid beneath him and he worried for a moment that he might pass out if he didn’t anchor himself onto something, dizziness setting in as he tried to focus on everything she was saying and find the words to tell her just how sorry he was for blundering into her new life and screwing it all up again. But clearly she wasn’t finished and Raven took advantage of his continued silence to unload three years’ worth of grief and anguish on his spent body. 

“Y’know,” she started. “I thought I could deal with the fighting. The constant scrapping, the black eyes and bruised ego. The gambling and the stealing. God, I think maybe I could even have lived with the fact that you ran me over.” Murphy winced at her directness. “But you know what I couldn’t get over - what I still can’t deal with? It’s the fact that you _left_ me.” 

Raven looked over at him with shining eyes, lids welling with unshed tears: hurt and confused, still, after all this time. Murphy swallowed back his own guilt and the all-consuming urge to bring up whatever bile was still left in his stomach as he replayed the moment again and again in his mind. The sound of her head hitting the windscreen. The weight of her body striking the ground.

“You knew that you’d hit me. You knew that you’d hit me and you left me, broken and bleeding on the forecourt.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I could have been dead-”

“I came back for you.” Murphy choked out. “I made sure you were ok.”

Raven shook her head in dismay. “But you shouldn’t have had to come back, Murphy. You should never have left.” 

“I know.” He whispered back. “I know and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. And if I could go back and change it I would. I’d do anything. But I can’t- I can’t undo this and I don’t even know how to begin to make it right again. Nothing I do is ever going to fix this and it kills me to think of everything that we had and how I threw it all away in some stupid, drunken mistake.” 

Murphy’s voice trembled as it grew louder and more frustrated with each confession. He stood shakily and staggered blindly over to lean against the sideboard, eyes foggy with hangover and tears. “Except, whatever I say about wishing I could go back and change it’s just a crock of shit, isn’t it? Because I just keep making the same fuck-ups over and over again. I do it again and again and I never learn. I never do it any different. And now I’ve pushed everyone away and I’ve ruined what little I scraped back and it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Raven stared at him, a searching look in her eyes. “You know, Murphy. That’s always been your problem.” Murphy gripped the sideboard a little tighter and returned her gaze. “You’re too busy giving up to give yourself a chance.”

His body visibly bristled and she caught a derisive scoff as he hunched his shoulders, hanging his head to rest heavily over his chest. She tried again. “It’s never too late.”

“There is _nothing_ left!” He burst out. “I have _nothing_! I can’t hold down a job, my girlfriend _left_ me. I have ruined _all_ my friendships! Literally all of them. I have lied and stolen and cheated my way through every turn and I deserve _every_ piece of shit that life has thrown at me.” Murphy’s chest heaved with exertion. “I am done! What is the point? I have _nothing_ left.” 

Raven felt the anger bubbling back up inside her. Even now, he just couldn’t see and she fought to keep her voice restrained. “You’ve got me. You’ve _always_ had me. You know, maybe instead of drinking away your life and betting on these shit deals, just maybe you should try betting on yourself for once.”

“Why?” Murphy laughed bitterly. “Even I know not to bet on a lost cause. No one bets on a loser, especially not a loser like me.”

“ _I_ bet on you!” Raven cried, pushing herself defiantly from her place on the sofa and confronting him head on. “I bet on you that day behind the science block. I bet on you that night in Arkadia. And I bet on you the night you got your flat.”

Murphy sheepishly averted his gaze and stared sullenly at the floor. 

“I bet on you _time_ and _time_ again. But I guess that’s the thing with addiction. You need to know when to quit and- and I think it might be time. ‘Cause I don’t think I can stand to lose again. So...” Her voice faltered and, at this, Murphy wrenched his swollen eyes from the floor to meet hers. Raven shook her head, bottom lip wobbling. “... this is the last time. And it hurts and it’s scary but- I didn’t leave my mom just to drown with you, Murphy.”

Murphy fought to hold her gaze, his knees suddenly feeling as though they would betray him and leave him collapsed in a heap on the floor at any minute. She was right. After everything she had been through, he had dragged her through the all-too-familiar pain once again. He remembered her stoic confidence in him, whispered like a promise between them the night she turned eighteen, and his heart and his gut ached for her misplaced faith. 

“So what’s it going to be, Murphy?” Her voice was fragile but the demanding tone was clear. “Because if you don’t _want_ to fix this-” She gestured at him bodily. “Then you might as well get out now.”

“Of course I want this.” He whispered. “I want this more than anything. I just don’t know-”

“Cut the self-deprecating bullshit, Murphy. It’s not a good look on you.” 

“I was going to say-”

“I know what you were going to say. And I don’t want to hear it. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. You are not defined by the choices other people have made. Where you go from here, it’s all down to you. And you’ve got some big decisions to make. But no one ever said you had to do it alone, so quit acting like it.”

* * *

Raven had turned away and stumped off towards the kitchen, wanting to make sure she had the last word. Murphy wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to deserve it, but it seemed like she wasn’t kicking him out on his ass just yet and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck it up another time. They’d skirted around each other for the rest of the afternoon, with Raven disappearing off to have a hushed telephone conversation in her bedroom at around four with what he could only assume was Sinclair. Another stab of guilt caused his stomach to roll again and, even though he’d refused any offer of food throughout the day, it still felt as though he could produce another colourful display of bodily fluids at any given moment. 

When Raven emerged from her surreptitious phone call, he was sat stock still on the sofa with his head pressed back firmly against the cushion: eyes clamped shut, one hand gripping a pint of water and the other dug desperately into the comforting folds of his flannel pyjamas. If only the room would stop spinning and his stomach would stop lurching, Murphy thought he might just be able to make it through the night without disaster. But clearly the world wasn’t done shitting on him. 

“Jesus, Murphy. You look green.” 

“Thanks.” The attempt at sarcasm was weak and he cautiously lifted his head to chug back the ice cold water, his desperate gulps culminating in ugly snorts and gurgles. 

“I don’t think you should do that.” Raven warned him. “How many pints have you sunk since I took that call?”

Murphy gasped as he drained the last of the water, his brain throbbing. “I dunno. Three maybe.” 

“You’ll be sick if you keep knocking it back like that.”

“Well, the alternative appears to be vomit-based also.” He groaned, shifting slightly so that he was sitting more upright than before and lifting his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose in a sorry attempt to relieve the pressure that had been building steadily behind his eyes.

“You know, you really ought to eat something.” Murphy shook his head carefully and waved off her concern. “I know you don’t want to but you didn’t eat anything last night either. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

“It’ll definitely make me feel worse if I spew it all back up in the toilet.”

“Well, as long as it’s not on my carpet again.”

“Have I apologised for that bit yet?” Murphy grumbled.

“Three times.” Raven nodded, counting on her fingers. “But a few more wouldn’t hurt.” 

“I’m sorry.” It sounded more like a question and Murphy tried for a tentative smile. Although her lips did not give in, a small flicker of humour danced across her eyes. “I’ll pay for the damages.” He added earnestly. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” Raven returned. “Although, you might have done me a favour in the long run. I’ve always wanted to upgrade to laminate.”

Murphy snorted. “I said I’d replace the cheap carpet; I said nothing about upgrading you.”

“Yeh, you’re right.” She said with a smirk. “I’m top of the range.” 

Murphy’s mirth faltered and Raven grimaced at the automatic remark.

“Sorry,” she said. “Bad habit.” 

Murphy nodded. “Yeh, well… I’d know all about them wouldn’t I.”

* * *

In the end he relented and let her feed him. Not literally, obviously, but around about six o’clock she returned from the kitchen with a plate piled high with several rounds of toast on the understanding that she was peckish and couldn’t be bothered to cook anything just for herself. Half the rounds were buttered generously, the dripping, golden fat that would normally make his mouth water instead curdled his stomach. But the other half were plain and dry and he knew she’d left them there in the hope that he’d consume something, even if it was just a mouthful of bread. 

As she flicked aimlessly through the channels on the telly, Murphy snuck half a slice of dry toast from the stack. He said nothing and, although he knew full well she had clocked him out of the corner of her eye, Raven did not acknowledge it either. He chewed small bites cautiously, swallowing tiny mouthfuls of the toast that he would ordinarily have devoured in one go. Despite the many pints of water he had continued to glug, ignoring all of Raven’s protests, Murphy’s mouth still felt unbearably dry and each swallow felt like a brick. Even when it was gone, Murphy felt like there was still something unconquerable lodged in his throat and he flexed his chin and his neck as subtly as possible in an attempt to clear it. 

When he couldn’t dislodge it, Murphy reached for the half pint of water he had left on the coffee table. Although it had caused him some physical discomfort, Murphy couldn’t deny that the initial consumption had given him a much needed boost and dispelled some of his latent nausea. He reached casually for another half a slice and looked at it thoughtfully.

“Since we’re on the subject of honesty,” he began, almost on a whim and not entirely sure how, why or where he was going with this, since they’d been sitting in amiable silence for a while now. “I guess I should start talking.” 

Raven didn’t answer him but she dropped her gaze to her lap and chewed the inside of her lip, no longer bothering to keep up the pretence of watching whatever crap she’d found on the film channel. 

“I was frightened.” He whispered at last. “It was all so comfortable. My flat, the restaurant. Sinclair’s place. You.” 

Murphy stared at his slice of toast so intently it was a wonder it didn’t disintegrate in his fingers. He couldn’t look at her. He knew if he did then he’d never let it out. He would never be able to give her the truth she’d asked for. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was those evenings we spent over Sinclair’s shop.” He admitted. “You remember when I told you about my flat? And you said how much I loved it.” 

Raven nodded quietly. 

“I don’t think it was ever the flat.” Murphy breathed. Raven visibly swallowed. “You were everything to me at a time when I had nothing, Raven. And I don’t know if you ever knew that, but those nights we spent over the garage… they were the start of something new for me. A glimpse of a life I never knew I could have.”

A littering of crumbs dusted Murphy’s lap from where he had been resting his dithering hand that still clutched the now cold slice of dry toast. Raven did not dare to move for fear that he might clam up again and instead waited tensely for him to continue. 

Murphy set his jaw determinedly. “Do you remember what I gave you for your 18th?” 

Raven nodded and breathed a shallow yes. “You gave me the spare for your flat.” 

Murphy looked up at her, exposed and afraid. “It wasn’t meant to be a spare.” 

For a moment, Raven merely returned his terrified stare, before getting up to rifle through something on the sideboard. Murphy couldn’t bring himself to follow her with his gaze: the conversation was clearly over. He felt sick and hollow again. 

But when she returned, carrying her purse, and perched nervously on the edge of the sofa, Murphy watched her with confusion as her fingers trembled while she fished something out of the zip pocket. She placed it carefully on the coffee table between them. Murphy’s eyes welled up as she retrieved her hand slowly to reveal a familiar object. She’d kept it all this time. 

“If you had asked me then,” she whispered. “I would have said yes.”

The implication hit him like a steam train as he realised just how immensely he’d cocked everything up. All the time he had spent agonising over his feelings and the way she might have responded. All the hurtful things he’d said to her as he’d scrambled away like a coward in the night.

“I was so convinced I’d got it wrong.” Murphy murmured. 

Raven did not say anything further but her eyes betrayed her. 

“I tried so hard to ignore how I felt because I thought I was being a shitty friend. And all it did was eat me up inside. And then things started to feel different and you were round all the time and we were closer and…” Murphy took a shaky breath. “That night, I convinced myself that maybe you wanted me, too. So I let the drink take over and did what I hadn’t had the guts to do for years. It was impulsive and stupid, I know. And when you looked at me like that… When you froze up… I just-”

Murphy turned back to the key that sat glinting on the table, bitter and angry about the deep-rooted misunderstanding that had festered between them. 

“-God, I was so embarrassed. And confused. And it just felt like you’d confirmed everything that I’d feared all along.” Murphy laid the toast back on the plate and ran a crumby finger along the serrated edge of the key. 

“So I took off. Because I thought, if I let you speak, I couldn’t bear to hear you say the words aloud. I didn’t want it to be real. And I was still half cut and it was just so much easier to put the wall back up and get on the defensive than be vulnerable.”

Raven still sat in silence as he poured out his confessions.

“It’s not an excuse.” Murphy stated. “But you’re right. You deserved the truth. And the truth was that I loved you. But I was too shit scared and stupid to do anything about it. And instead of fixing all my own problems first, I made us into an even bigger one. I destroyed myself and then I destroyed you.”

He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the key on the table, but Murphy felt the sofa dip as Raven shuffled farther along the cushions. Her voice was soft and heavy when she spoke. “Hey, don’t give yourself so much credit.” She whispered. “I was damaged long before you arrived.”

Murphy choked out a half hearted laugh.

“Besides,” she continued. “I dunno what kind of wreck you’ve been looking at, but I’m still freaking awesome, thank you very much. It’s going to take a lot more than some dickhead in a stolen car to take me out.” 

Murphy snorted and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was starting to burn up and the fringe that flopped over his eyes felt damp; a few flyaways clung to his forehead. The nausea had settled somewhat in his stomach now but he felt as though the remaining toxins were trying to seep their way out through his skin. 

Murphy looked up at her apprehensively. “Can we start again?” 

Raven pressed her lips together in a tight smile. She gave him a small nod that seemed to wring all of the tension from his shoulders so that he slumped forward, pointy elbows digging into his knees as he held his head in his hands. 

With his eyes pressed shut, Murphy couldn’t help but jump at the unexpected feeling of her sure arms around his hunched shoulders. But it didn’t stop him from turning into her and letting her hold him, breath ragged and chest heaving. He pressed his face hastily into her shoulder until his face was hot and itching with tears and he thought he might suffocate in her embrace. And when, at last, he feared she might pull away, he grasped desperately at the back of her sweater and prayed that she would hold him just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this feels like it took ages to get out and I also wanted to apologise for the radio silence - all your comments are much appreciated and I'm also looking forward to reading the many updates that have pinged up in my inbox over the last few weeks! Marking schedule heading up to Christmas is immense and I feel like I'm drowning currently in assessments and hybrid lessons so it may be another wait for the next chapter (just a heads up - don't abandon me yet!) :) xx


	13. Chapter 13

The previous night had been incredibly uncomfortable. Not long after Murphy had taken solace in Raven’s sweater, his tremors had started to return with a vengeance. His fingers itched and trembled as he retrieved them from her comforting embrace and he cringed as the beads of sweat ran in torrents down his spine. She’d graciously given him space and retreated into her room for the rest of the evening, telling him to knock on the door if he wanted anything. But the truth was, he couldn’t have wanted anything less than he wanted her to see him this way again. 

He lay on his back on the blankets he’d been sleeping under for the last few weeks: unable to cover his burning body with them and knowing for sure that, if he didn’t lie on something, he’d leave a revolting sweat shadow permanently etched in salt on her sofa. At eight o’clock he relented and gave in to the urge to strip out of his pyjamas until he lay, exposed, in just his boxers, no longer caring if she happened to find him this way. 

And perhaps it was a good job he had lost the will to give a shit anymore, because by ten thirty the tremors had consumed his entire body and he was forced to clutch his rolling stomach in agony. He slid off the sofa to his knees and scrambled across to the bathroom with a whimper, where he promptly wrapped his shivering body around the pedestal, hands gripping the bowl like a vice while he hung his head over it to retch. Thankfully there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up but bile, which stung his throat and his nose and left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Murphy shivered as he was wracked with a new wave of shudders that he thought probably had more to do with the way his sweat cooled on his body than the withdrawal. In his haste he had left the door ajar and, at the sound of the quiet knock, Murphy mumbled out a series of apologies to Raven as she appeared silently in the doorframe. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Raven did not reply. Instead, she approached him cautiously, like he was a wild animal ready to take flight at any moment, and draped a thin blanket over his shoulders. Swinging out her left leg, she sat down next to him on the floor.

“I’m not cold.” His protests were made infinitely less convincing by the way his body shook again and he let out an exasperated sigh as Raven fixed him with a knowing stare. “At least, I don’t think I am, not really. I’m too hot. Sweating.” Murphy coughed into the bowl again. “How is it possible to be hot _and_ cold all at the same time?”

Raven shrugged wordlessly at him and rubbed his upper arms thoughtfully through the blanket. Murphy was momentarily grateful for the compassion but the motion suddenly brought on another round of bile. To her credit, Raven did not react. She merely held the blanket a little tighter around him and, as the convulsions in his stomach ebbed away and he rested his head on the seat to stare at her, she pushed his dripping hair out of his eyes and pressed a cold hand to his burning brow.

Murphy wasn’t sure how long he clutched the toilet for, but his back and his shoulders were stiff when she eventually pried him from the bowl and walked him back across the living room. He stumbled slightly as she redirected him from his automatic path back to the sofa and instead pushed him gently through her bedroom door. He stood stock still for a while as she faffed about with the sheets and cleared a few belongings off the nightstand. Murphy thought he’d made it perfectly clear that he couldn’t cope with the blurred lines they’d created between them before and his little brain was smoking as it tried to process what might actually be happening. He opted to remove himself from the situation and turned to put his hand on the doorknob. 

“I’m not staying.” Murphy paused and looked back to see Raven folding down the last sheet on the bed. She looked up at him when she was done. “You’re clearly not going to get any sleep out there and I won’t get any rest lying here listening to you. So you might as well sleep in here tonight, god knows you look like you need it.”

Raven cradled a new set of blankets from out of her wardrobe and limped lethargically back towards the door. She paused when she reached him, his hand still grasping the knob. She covered the white knuckles with her warm fingers and eased them away.

“I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

* * *

It had been a long time since Murphy had slept in an actual bed instead of crashing on someone else’s sofa and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. He’s pretty sure he was out by the time his head hit the pillow and when he finally opened his eyes, the light was streaming in through a gap in Raven’s curtains. He rolled over and buried his face in her pillows in an attempt to block it out, chasing that deep, weighty sensation of much needed sleep again.

He must only have dozed because the next thing that woke him was the dull thud of the front door. The alarm clock on Raven’s nightstand read 11.03. Murphy rolled over to lie on his back, staring absently at the ceiling. His stomach growled unceremoniously and he cautiously patted it with a flat palm before deciding he’d better get up in case he dropped off again. He poked his head out of the bedroom door into the living room and listened for any tell tale signs that Raven was in, but the silence that greeted him suggested that he must have heard her shutting the front door on the way out rather than on the way back in. 

He padded groggily over to the kitchen and leant lazily up the counter in his boxers, yawning heavily as the kettle boiled. Another growl from his stomach prompted him to have a nose through the cupboards. The thought of pouring milk over cereal made his throat constrict and so he chucked a couple of slices of bread in the toaster instead. 

Murphy chewed each mouthful of dry toast carefully before swallowing, each time feeling like he’d got a brick lodged halfway down his chest. At least his stomach had stopped complaining. He nursed the rest of his coffee, worried that if he kept it next to his face for too long it might bring on a new wave of nausea, but there was no way he could stomach any more water after the previous evening. 

After a few moments, Murphy found himself eyeing up the laptop on the sideboard. He’d been thinking a lot and now that he was alone, he decided that maybe it was the time to have a look, seeing as there was no one to hold him to account and badger him if he changed his mind. He logged in quickly and opened up a private window. He stared at it, willing his fingers to type in the words but they just tapped nervously on the keyboard instead. Murphy closed the window and ran his hands through his hair before shaking himself and opening it back up again. He typed the words into the search bar and hesitated before hitting the enter key a little more aggressively than he’d intended. It came up on the first hit and he hovered the mouse over it before he chickened out and scooted the laptop onto the coffee table. Maybe he should tidy up a bit first. 

Once he had cleared his plate and his mug away, washing and thoroughly drying them and stacking each item back up neatly in the cupboard, Murphy leant up the kitchen door frame. He stared at the open laptop on the coffee table and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. 

_Now or never, right?_

Murphy perched on the edge of the sofa and clicked on the first link. The images on the home page looked friendly enough but the information felt cold and sterile. Murphy wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse. He scrolled through the menu and hoped they had an online form to fill in. He still didn’t have a phone and there was no way in hell he’d be asking to borrow Raven’s. The thought that he could just walk in and arrange this occurred to him but it sent an unintentional shiver through his gut and he figured it would be better all round if he could avoid as much human contact as possible until absolutely necessary. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that after all. Murphy filled in the initial information with relative ease: name, date of birth, email address... He held his finger down on the zero for the telephone contact, which was rather irritatingly asterisked, and hoped the computer wasn’t smart enough to call him out on it. He paused momentarily as he started to fill in the address line and considered whether he was meant to put in the address he was registered at or whether they would actually need somewhere to contact him. In the end he plumped for a ‘care of’ address and inserted the first line of Raven’s address. It took only a few seconds on google to establish the full address and postcode. So far, so easy.

Murphy clicked onto the next section of the form, which presented him with a list of unfamiliar names and a month by month calendar. A quick scan assured him that he really didn’t give a toss since he couldn’t remember who any of these people were and so he checked the boxes that read ‘no preference’ and ‘next available appointment’. His resolve was quickly fading. Surely, all he needed to do now was click submit and it was done?

The cursor transformed into that nerve-inducing little wheel while he waited for the receipt message to pop up. Murphy drummed his fingers on his knees and let out a little sigh of relief when a new page finally binged onto the screen. 

Except apparently he wasn’t quite done. He could feel the irritation rise in his chest as he read. _Thank you for submitting your request. Please provide us with a brief description of your needs so that we can process your appointment as quickly and efficiently as possible._

Well, shit. 

As uncomfortable as the whole experience had been, Murphy had felt pretty pleased with himself that he had been able to complete everything safely behind a screen and without having to acknowledge what he was doing or what he wanted. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that eventually he was going to have to put this into words. But in his mind that was at least two weeks away: a Future Murphy problem. By which time he was sure he would have talked himself out of it anyway and realised what a waste of time it was. 

Murphy glared at the empty little box and wondered if there was a time limit on the form. He urged his shaking fingers to type out a response, which he deleted multiple times and rewrote in the vaguest language possible. Murphy reread the words one final time before scrubbing at his eyes with his hands. If he couldn’t write it down, how the fuck was he ever going to say it out loud? He hovered a finger over the backspace before pushing it down until it produced a distressed series of pings to announce that he’d reached the end. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself and, with a single angry digit, punched out the three words he had hoped to never have to say.

* * *

Raven returned at about one with a couple of carrier bags and some supplies for the kitchen. She noted the laptop on the sideboard had moved and was left slightly ajar but had enough sense not to pry. Whatever he was up to, he would either tell her or he wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to start nosing about in his business. They’d agreed to start again and she fully intended to make good on that promise. No good would come of harassing him or keeping tabs on what he was doing. Murphy needed to fix this himself. 

The shower was running as she put away the shopping and Raven wondered whether he’d heard her come back. She wasn’t sure what he got up to when she was out and she figured maybe it would be worth knocking the door just to let him know she was in. She rapped on the door a couple of times but there was no response. Carefully, she cracked open the door just enough to shout through the gap.

“Murphy,” she called. There was a short commotion behind the curtain and some swearing as he dropped something noisily in the bottom of the tub. 

“Yeh?” He hollered back, his voice strained and pitching at the end.

“I knocked.” She started, suddenly regretting her decision. “I just wanted to let you know I was back. Y’know, in case you were planning on wandering around in your undies.” There was a pause.

“Uh, ok. Thanks.” He called back through the curtain.

_Fucking idiot_ , she cursed herself. She was about to close the door before she turned back. “Do you want some lunch?”

There was a rustle behind the curtain and Raven couldn’t help but notice the change in the cascading water. “Uh, yeh. Please. That’d be great… thanks.” 

“Ok,” she answered. “I’ll leave you to it.” She said, shutting the door a bit more forcefully than usual so that he could hear that she’d actually gone.

* * *

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, feeling slightly more human than he had done in a few days, Murphy could smell the tomato base of whatever Raven was attempting to cook up in the kitchen. He popped his head round the kitchen door to find her draining a saucepan of pasta and couldn’t help the grin that crept onto his face. Raven must have heard him since she turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask what the hell he was looking at. Murphy mirrored her expression and lifted his chin to indicate the shiny new colander she was currently shaking over the sink.

“Yeh, yeh. I caved and bought one.” She turned back to pour the pasta out into a bubbling pan on the stove, but not before Murphy caught her smile to herself. “Got fed up of you moaning like a little bitch every time you had to use the lid.” 

“Sure you did.” He drawled. “Not even going to admit how much easier it was, trying not to scald yourself?”

“I would never.” Raven laughed. 

“Scald yourself?” Murphy propped himself up the doorway. “Or admit that I was right?”

“Both.” She said with a smirk, stirring the pasta into the sauce. “Oh, by the way…” She looked up from the pan. “The laptop made a noise while you were in the bathroom. Sounds like you got mail.”

“Oh,” Murphy frowned. “Thanks.”

He turned away from the door abruptly and stalked over to the sideboard. Surely it would just be a confirmation email to say they had received his request? There’s no way in hell he’d have got anything back yet. Murphy eased up the screen and clicked on the unread email at the top of his inbox with the subject line _RE: Emergency Appointment Request._

Murphy scanned the email, his eyes darted back and forth across the formal text without taking it all in. _Thank you for your request… given the nature of… like to offer you an emergency appointment with… today at 5.30pm… please click here to confirm your attendance…_

“Shit.” 

“Everything ok?” 

Murphy jumped at the question, not having heard Raven come in behind him. She stood with two steaming bowls in her hands, spoons balanced precariously under the pasta. Murphy rubbed at his neck self-consciously. 

“Yeh.” He stumbled. “Yeh, I’m fine.” 

Raven frowned at him, placing his bowl on the coffee table since he had made no move to take it from her. “Anyone important?” She asked slyly, taking a seat and fishing out a heaped spoon of penne. 

Murphy huffed out a breath and shook his head unconvincingly. “Nah. No one important.” 

Raven stared at him thoughtfully before nodding at her dish and launching into a blow by blow account of how she’d actually managed to make the sauce herself without setting fire to the kitchen or burning anything, presumably to fill the awkward silence he had created. Murphy looked up to find her staring at him expectantly. She’d clearly finished and was waiting for a response.

“Tastes great.” He forced a small smile which only served to make her even more suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Murphy?” Raven placed her bowl down on the table and gave him a sincere look. “It’s just, well… You seem a bit off.”

“No, it’s fine, really-”

“-because if it’s about earlier, then I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t want to freak you out if you didn’t know I was back and-”

“-what?” Murphy looked up to meet her gaze and realised she looked worried. Like she’d done something wrong. “No. No, it’s not you. It’s…” He trailed off and found himself suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of what he was about to do. The need to unburden himself pressed tightly against his chest and he knew from experience that if she continued to stare at him like that then there would be no stopping it from bursting out. Murphy let out a heavy sigh: _why delay the inevitable?_

“I just erm… Well, it’s just that I arranged this thing and ah, well, I thought it would be in a coupla weeks. But they-” Murphy fidgeted with his spoon. “They said they want to do it today so uh, I guess I’m just a bit stressed about how I’m going to... to sort it. Short notice. Whatever…” 

Murphy pressed his lips together and scraped at the remaining sauce left clinging to the edge of his bowl. “It’s fine.” He said, more to reassure himself than anything.

Raven ran a hand through her hair and then rested her head in it, elbow propped up against the back of the sofa. He could feel her watching him, decoding his words and analysing each tick in his jaw. “What time is it?”

“Right now, it’s about-” He attempted to jibe.

“Your appointment.” She interrupted softly. Murphy twitched at the word. “Or whatever it is.”

Murphy considered lying to her or playing dumb, but in the end he just couldn’t do it. “Five thirty.” He whispered. “I have a doctor’s appointment at five thirty.” 

“But you didn’t think it would come through so soon.” Raven repeated gently. Murphy shook his head pensively. “Are you still going to take it?” She asked quietly, watching the way the tension tightened the muscles in his back and shoulders. He didn’t look as skinny as he did all those weeks ago but he looked just as vulnerable right now.

Murphy could tell that she didn’t want to push him but he could feel her staring at him expectantly and the weight of her impending disappointment if he said no was too great to ignore. Still, the thought of actually putting on his clothes, walking out of the front door and catching the bus into Polis was almost too much for him. 

Chewing his lip, Murphy contemplated his choices. Do his usual trick and blame his problems on the rest of the world, ruin any salvageable connection he had with the one person who seemed to be picking up his shit for him and risk dying of alcohol poisoning in a bus shelter when she eventually realised her mistake and kicked him out. Or… _Fuck it._

“I really don’t think I have the nerve to keep it.” Murphy shook his head and clenched his fists a little, turning to catch her eye and then deciding against it. Maybe it would be easier if he couldn’t see the way she was bristling with anticipation. “Do you think you could drive me?” 

Raven let out a quick breath that was far more audible than she had intended. She’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t worried that he’d back out of this but she didn’t want him to feel under any more pressure than he clearly was right now.

“Yeh, sure.” She tried to brush off the question casually. “No problem.”

* * *

_This was a shit idea_ , Murphy thought bitterly as Raven pulled up outside the practice in Polis. His knee had been jiddering the entire journey and, although she had said nothing, he could tell that it was starting to make Raven nervous. The crank on the handbrake was obnoxious in the silence and Murphy wished he could come up with anything to say that might break it.

“Well, here we go.” Raven said, absently running her hand along the steering wheel. “You’ve got about five minutes to get checked in at the desk. Right on time.” 

Murphy nodded and tapped his fingers on his jiddering knee. “Yep.” He replied, sucking his teeth. 

He cast a look out of the window over to the glass frontage and the waiting room full of coughing old men and young mothers with their wailing children. What the fuck was he doing? No matter what he told himself, no matter how many times he willed his hands to eject the seatbelt, to open the door, nothing happened. His body stayed rooted firmly to the passenger seat regardless of how many times the little voice in the back of his head yelled at him to move. He gritted his teeth. Counting was good. Maybe he could count his way out of this one, too. Inhale on one, exhale on two… Inhale on three, exhale on _fuck it._

“What?” Raven yelped, because crap, he seemed to have said that bit out loud.

“I can’t do it.” His breath became more ragged. 

Raven furrowed her brows, concerned. “Murphy, what’s wrong?”

“I want to - I do. But... I can’t.” Murphy shook his head. “I can’t do it, I literally can’t-”

“Murphy, what? You can’t go in there?”

God, he hoped he didn’t look as helpless as he felt right now. “I’m scared.” He whispered. “I’m scared. I can’t go in there, with all those kids and those stupid receptionists and judgy moms and-”

“Hey.” Raven placed a hand on his dithering knee to settle it and tilted her head to look at him. “It’s ok. It’s going to be fine.” Murphy just shook his head again and turned back to scrutinise the waiting area. A nurse came out to collect an elderly gentleman and walked him off down the corridor while a flustered mother struggled with the double doors as her baby screamed in its pram. 

“Murphy?”

“Hm?” Murphy looked back over his shoulder at her.

“I said: do you want me to come in with you?” She asked. “To sit in the waiting room?”

* * *

When the doctor called his name he looked ready to do a runner. 

Raven had ended up getting out of the car first and he had reluctantly followed her across the car park like a sullen child, hands in his pockets, scuffing his boots. When they reached the doors, Raven had ushered him in first and stared pointedly at him as the receptionist asked for his name and date of birth to ensure that he actually answered her, albeit directing every word at the carpet tiles instead of her face. Raven shot her an apologetic smile once they’d been directed to take a seat and Murphy had slumped off to find the seat farthest away from a squalling newborn whose poor mother looked ready to burst into tears. 

“John Murphy?” The doctor called a second time, her eyes scanning the waiting room and settling a couple of times on them in the corner. 

Raven reached across to grasp Murphy’s hand in order to give it an encouraging squeeze. His palms were sweaty and the action was clumsy as he tried to entwine his sticky fingers with hers. Raven smiled awkwardly at the doctor, mainly out of fear that she may give up and think he was a no-show, who returned her smile carefully, eyes crinkling in the corners. She picked her way across the room to meet them but stopped short when Murphy stood abruptly from his chair, still awkwardly clutching onto Raven’s hand. The sudden movement earned him a few puzzled glances. Murphy looked back at Raven apologetically, but did not let go all the same. She squeezed him gently, giving him a small shake. 

Murphy looked up at the doctor. Then back at Raven. Then stared resolutely back at his feet. Raven could see the hint of colour creeping up the back of his neck, threatening to bleed out into his cheeks and humiliate him further and it made her heart ache for him.

The doctor continued her path towards them and held out a hand to him, which Murphy proceeded to ignore and declined to shake. “Mr Murphy?” She asked. Raven nodded when it seemed that Murphy had lost all capacity to answer. 

“Would you like to follow me through to room number three please?” Her voice was soft and encouraging, despite Murphy’s lack of manners. When he made no effort to move, she looked surreptitiously between the two of them. “If it would help, your friend here is welcome to come with us.” 

He seemed unsure, shifting his weight slightly: clearly uncomfortable. It would be too much to ask, he decided. She’d already driven him here and ended up having to escort him into the building. 

Still, Murphy glanced up at her again with a strained look on his face, as though trying to read her reaction: seeking permission. Raven nodded wordlessly and Murphy felt his throat constrict a little at the gesture. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words out loud, though. Instead, he was reminded of the comforting weight of her hand still in his and he tugged discreetly on it, hoping that she would take the hint. When she rose to stand next to him, Murphy squeezed her hand a little tighter for fear that if she let go he might disappear without a trace. Raven curled her fingers even tighter around his own and gently coaxed him along to trail after the doctor as she bustled off towards room number three.

* * *

Murphy was vaguely aware that although the doctor's lips were moving, he hadn’t heard a single word she’d said for the last two minutes. All he could hear was the buzzing of his hot blood thundering through his ears. 

It was a good thing Raven had agreed to come in with him because the whole appointment had felt like a blur and he wasn’t sure if he could recall much of what had been said. Everything they had discussed seemed to be a distant conversation that he wasn’t quite participating in, merely observing from outside his own body. She’d asked him lots of questions about his alcohol consumption and drinking habits, his general well-being and probed him about a number of lifestyle choices and events which rubbed him up the wrong way. He had unwillingly presented his arm when prompted to allow her to take his blood pressure and had watched with mild, morbid fascination when she inserted the butterfly needle into his reluctant veins to draw four vials of blood. Murphy had ignored her instructions to look away and felt a bizarre sense of satisfaction as the tubing filled and watched as his life drained into each bottle. 

He had remained passive as she set out a handful of leaflets and relayed information about different support groups that were available to him, listing options for counselling and CBT. 

“Mr Murphy?” 

Murphy realised that he must have looked as zoned out as he felt since she had stopped to ask him if he felt ok and whether he heard the last question, which of course he hadn’t. He cringed at the rising panic that began to claw its way up his chest and looked briefly at Raven for help. She already had a hand held out to accept the leaflets and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she answered for him.

“Thank you so much for your support with this, doctor, and for managing to see us so quickly. We really appreciate all the help and information you’ve offered today, but-" Raven paused to cast her eyes over him. “I think it’s all a little overwhelming. There’s a lot to take in and think about. Do you think it would be possible to take all of the information home to digest before we make a decision?”

“Of course.” The doctor nodded, turning back to her computer. “I should have the results back from the blood tests in a couple of days time, so why don’t you reschedule an appointment for Friday so that we can make arrangements? If anything pressing comes back from the bloods before then, the receptionist will give you a ring, Mr Murphy.”

“They can try.” Murphy grumbled under his breath. Raven shot him a warning glance.

“What he means is that he doesn’t have a phone, doctor.” Her puzzlement cut through her kindly expression as Raven continued. “But since we are living in the same flat at the moment I’m sure it would be possible to reach him on my number.” 

“Yes, well, if you sort all that at reception before you go I would be much obliged.” She turned back to Murphy. “I appreciate that this was quite a lot to take in, Mr Murphy. Do you have any questions or concerns before you go?”

Murphy shook his head and stood to take the doctor’s hand, mumbling his thanks as he tried not to give in to the urge to bolt immediately for the door. 

Outside in the corridor, Raven placed a warm hand on his back, gently resting the other on his arm with a small squeeze. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m really proud of you, Murphy. That was a tough call and you did it all by yourself.” 

“Hardly.” He scoffed. “I couldn’t even get myself here, let alone make it through the freaking door without you.”

“But you did make the appointment. And that's what matters. You took charge and made a decision. And I know how hard that must have been. You could just as easily have cancelled it when it came through today but you didn’t. Asking for help isn’t a weakness, Murphy. But hiding away and pretending is.” 

Murphy rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose, but Raven merely patted him fondly on the shoulder before making her way out to the front desk to schedule his next appointment. He watched her smile warmly at the receptionist he had pissed off and imagined the benign chit chat she was making on his behalf as she forced a small laugh, handing over the appointment request from the doctor. _Yeh right_ , he thought, _like I could ever have done this by myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are staying well and have managed to enjoy the holiday period as much as was possible this year. I totally get it if you didn't though, because all I have done is stare at one crappy news story after another waiting to see what I might be expected to do if and when school reopens. Not to mention the extraordinary amount of hate that appears to exist on social media over here for those of us who are genuinely worried about safety within the classroom [i.e. most of us] *SIGH*. 
> 
> Sorry if this one isn't super engaging: I've been trying my best to get back in the zone! It started flowing a bit more freely last night though which was a nice surprise (typical now that term is starting again, am I right?!)
> 
> Love to you all - stay safe out there xx

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'All My Friends' by Creeper.


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